Random Oneshots
by lostinquinntanawonderland
Summary: Quinntana/Nayanna Rivergron. I don't think I would ever write a mature fanfic, so every story's rated T.
1. Jar of Hearts

"_Who do you think you are, running 'round leaving scars?"_

* * *

I remove my sweater, throw it on the grass, and sit on it. It's already summer, and I've been wearing the sweater all day. I never felt warm, though. All I had to do was think about Santana and everything she's done to me to make myself shiver.

I should've listened to everyone. I should've believed my friends when they told me Santana was, and, it turns out, still is, nothing but trouble. I should've believed them when they told me Santana would only break my heart.

Could I blame myself, though? All I ever wanted was to be loved, and everyone who should have granted my only wish denied that to me. My real parents left me to be adopted, my foster parents were, and still are, never around, every single guy I have been with treated me like shit. I thought nobody would ever love me until here she comes, my knight in shining Cheerio uniform.

She was the sweetest person I've ever known. She would take me out on dates, stay beside me as often as possible, and make me melt whenever we kiss. I never thought there'd ever come a day when she would confess to me that she cheated.

* * *

"_I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry, Q. I love you. Please don't leave me like this."_

"_What the hell am I supposed to do, Santana? You fucking promised!"_

"_I was drunk, okay? I didn't know what I was doing! I didn't mean to! You know I would never hurt you! I really—"_

"_Just fuck off, Santana. We're done."_

* * *

I never thought she'd ever hurt me. I never thought she'd ever make me cry myself to sleep every night. I never thought she'd be the reason why I'll never trust any person ever again. I never thought she'd ever give me a reason to have to wear long-sleeved clothes every single day.

If only I knew then that she'd break her promise about loving me forever. If only I knew then that she'd never prove me wrong, that she'd be a proof that no one could ever love me truly.

"Q?" I flinch at the sound of the familiar voice of a devil.

"Leave me alone, Santana."

Of course, she doesn't leave and sits beside me instead.

I turn to face her to give her a cold glare, but I see her eyeing my lower left arm.

"You're cutting yourself?"

"I've been through a lot worse," I mutter as I stand up, grab my sweater, and start running away.

I barely hear her yell, "I'm still sorry." Instead, all I hear is a voice filled with guilt. Like how I barely saw the tears in her eyes when she told me she cheated, and, instead, all I saw was red. Like how I barely minded everything she has done to try and get me back, and, instead, I only thought about how I could possibly get over her.

_I'd choose hurting because of cuts from a razor blade than hurting because of Santana any day._

* * *

"_Don't come back for me. Don't come back at all."_

* * *

**I just love how "running 'round leaving scars" had a literal meaning in this story. XD**


	2. Ours

"_Don't you worry your pretty little mind. People throw rocks at things that shine, and life makes love look hard…"_

* * *

_Splash._

"Looking good, Lezpez," Azimio laughs and throws his slushie cup at a nearby geek.

That's the second slushie facial I've had, and the second outfit I've ruined, ever since Quinn and I came out yesterday.

I wipe some of the slushie off of my face and start to walk to the washroom to fix my now bluish face and change into the extra clothes I have in my backpack.

I enter the room and find a familiar blonde washing her greenish face.

"Need some help there, babe?"

Quinn looks up at me with one eye still closed. She smiles before saying, "I could say the same thing to you, S."

I smirk and wash my face in the sink next to Quinn. I can feel Quinn staring at me, so I try to finish washing the slushie off as fast as I can. Once I'm done, Quinn hands me a towel.

I raise my eyebrow. "Are you okay, Q?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Your other eye is still closed." I step closer to her. "Let me see it."

She tries to open her eye and I see that it has gotten really red. "Some of the slushie got into my eye, but don't worry. It'll be okay."

I sigh. "How many cups of slushie have you had today?"

"I… don't know. I didn't have the chance to count the jocks who group-slushied me this morning."

"You… You were right, Q. We shouldn't have done this. We should've just kept this all a secret. I should've just waited—"

Quinn cuts me off by placing a finger on my lips. "No, San. You were right. It's all worth it. You've waited long enough. At least, now we don't have to wait until we're alone before we could hold hands." Her soft smile makes my heart ache worse.

"Yeah, but now we have to worry about being slushied while holding hands. I mean, look at you, Q. You don't deserve this. You're supposed to be the most popular, loved, and wanted girl in school. We're supposed to rule this school. I should've just waited a little longer." I hold her hands and interlace our fingers.

"S… I'm not regretting what we did. Are you?"

"What? Of course not, Q. If I could, I would have even told the whole world that I have an amazing girlfriend, that I have you, that you're all mine. But… I just feel bad when they hurt you because of me and my stupid decisions." I cast my eyes downward and play with her fingers, hoping it would help stop the tears I feel in my eyes from falling.

"You didn't make a stupid decision, S. I did. I did when I suggested that we keep our relationship secret. We really should've done this a long time ago, you know, let everyone know that we're together." She places her fingers under my chin and lifts my head up, making me look straight into her eyes. "It's all worth it for me, Santana. I don't care if being with you would make me have to face a million cups of slushies everyday. I won't let anything get in our way because you're worth it, S. You're all that matters to me." She wipes away the tear that's rolling down my cheek.

"You're so perfect, Q. I don't think I deserve you."

Quinn scoffs. "Of course you do, S. Sometimes, I even think that maybe you're a little too hot for me." She lets out a soft chuckle.

"I love you, Quinn. So damn much."

"I love you too, S, and I promise I won't ever let anything change that."

Quinn leans in and the moment her soft lips touch mine, I forget everything that has happened and all I can think about is how lucky I am to have her, to own her, to have the right to brag about her, to be in love with her. In that moment, I feel my knees weaken and it feels as if nothing mattered as long as we're together. In that moment, I know that I have made the right decision and that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

* * *

"_The stakes are high, the water's rough, but this love is ours."_


	3. Last Kiss

**In this story, it has always been Quinn and Santana on Glee.**

**If only I own Glee… :(**

**Oh, and this is a Nayanna Rivergron fic. :)**

**Some of the italicized text are flashbacks, some are part of the song. I'm sure you'll know the difference.**

* * *

I plop down my bed and take deep breaths. As I feel how exhausted I am, I realize how bad the idea of going down the music store myself is. All I wanted was to buy her album. I didn't quite think about what I was doing, and I realized I didn't only when a swarm of people approach me screaming my name. I guess the cap and shades didn't help. I had to write a thousand autographs and smile for a thousand photos before I was even able to make it to the counter.

I guess I just can't get rid of my stupid habit about buying anything that has her name on it.

* * *

_We enter my room and Dianna frowns as she walks to my shelf and eyes the latest addition to my, as she calls it, "Dianna Fangirl Collection"._

_"Naya…" She crosses her arms and turns her head to glare at me. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop this obsession?"_

_I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder. "But, Di… I can't help myself. Besides, the fans love it. Everytime the paparazzi snaps a photo of me buying anything that's connected to you, millions of Gleeks let out tears of joy."_

_"But what's the point? Why do you have to buy my posters, albums, and magazines when I'm already yours?" She pulls away from my arms and grabs the latest Cosmopolitan issue. "I mean, look at this, babe. Why would you waste your time, energy, and money on this if you have the real thing?"_

_I pout. "You just really look hot in that black dress, Di. If you were to wear it for me, I'd surely rip it off of you before you can even say 'hot'. Then, I wouldn't be able to enjoy seeing you in it."_

_Dianna huffs. "But, Nay, it's really weird, you know? I feel like I'm dating an obsessed fangirl!"_

_I set my gaze downwards and bite my lip. "I'm sorry."_

_Di lets out a small laugh, lifts my chin, and places a soft kiss on my lips. "Fine. I'll let you keep your stupid collection just because you're the fangirl I'm talking about."_

_"But really, Di. Don't you like it when you think about how much I'm obsessing on you?"_

_Dianna hums and places her arms around my waist. "Well, I guess it is kinda hot." She shrugs._

_"Just kinda?"_

_"Well… I loved your fangirl speech a while ago… Especially the part concerning ripping clothes off before I could say 'hot'." She sends me a suggestive wink._

_I hate that irresistible wink._

* * *

I sigh and quickly turn my computer on. I quickly place Dianna's CD in place, prepare a box of Kleenex, plug in my earphones, play the first song, bury my face in my hands, close my eyes, and let myself drown in her familiar, sweet voice.

"_I still remember the look on your face_

_Lit through the darkness at 1:58_

_The words that you whispered_

_For just us to know_

_You told me you loved me_

_So why did you go away?"_

I reach for a tissue as I go back to the night before we became… well, us. Back when we were sharing a hotel room for a concert tour in London. Back to the night when Quinntana started to become Nayanna.

* * *

"_Naya, stop staring at me."_

"_Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you up."_

"_So you decided to stare at me to sleep?"_

"_Didn't mean to. You just look so cute when you sleep, Di."_

"_Umf. What time is it?"_

"_1:58."_

"_And? Why are you up?"_

"_I don't know. Ask my biological clock."_

_Dianna throws a pillow at me. "Nerd."_

_I smirk. _

_I love you, Di._

"_Huh?"_

_Wait. Did I just say that aloud?_

"_Huh?"_

"_You said something. I didn't hear it."_

"_Huh? I did?"_

"_Yes, you did."_

"_I didn't say anything."_

_Dianna opens one of her eyes, places a kiss on my cheek, wraps her arms around me, and buries her face into my neck. "I love you, too, Naya."_

* * *

_"I do recall now_

_The smell of the rain_

_Fresh on the pavement_

_I ran off the plane_

_That July 9th_

_The beat of your heart_

_It jumps through your shirt_

_I can still feel your arms."_

* * *

_I was at the airport waiting for Dianna to get back from her album recording when I hear her shout._

"_Naya!" I stood up and accept her hug._

"_I missed you, babe," her breath hitting my neck made my heart race._

"_Same. How's New York?"_

"_Miserable without you." She surprises me with a kiss on the lips. It was the first time we kissed in public as Dianna and Naya, not Quinn and Santana._

"_I love you."_

"_I love you more."_

* * *

"_But now I'll go sit on the floor_

_Wearing your clothes_

_All that I know is that_

_I don't know how to be something you miss."_

* * *

"_Di?"_

"_Hm?"_

"_Why are you wearing my t-shirt?" I eyed my 'Lebanese' shirt._

_Dianna shrugs. "It's way better than my Lucy Caboosey shirt. Can I keep it?"_

"_Can I do anything about it?"_

"_You can give me a kiss and say, 'Of course, baby.'"_

_I just did as I was told._

* * *

_"Never thought we'd have a last kiss_

_Never imagined we'd end like this_

_Your name, forever the name on my lips…"_

I start shaking as I remember how Ryan Murphy caused our last kiss. It was the last day of shooting for Glee, and Ryan thought it would be a good idea to make Quinn and Santana break up on the day of Nationals. Dianna and I already broke up way before that, and I was sure that that scene would surely be one of those awkward she-is-my-ex-but-I-have-to-kiss-her-for-this-stupid-fucking-show moments.

* * *

"_Lights, camera, and action!"_

"_I'm really sorry, Santana. I just…"_

"_Need space. Yeah. I get it."_

"_But…"_

"_But if we're really meant to be, we'll find our way back to each other. Yeah, I know, Q."_

_Dianna bites her lip. "I didn't—"_

"_You didn't mean to break us up because your mom disowned you again when she found out you're gay. I get it, Q."_

"_I… I'm sorry. I still love you, San."_

_And I still love you, Dianna._

_I soften my glare and step closer to her. As I crash our lips together, I do my best not to shed a single tear._

"_You're doing great, Dianna! You could use a little more tears, too, Naya!"_

_What?_

_Dianna's crying?_

"_And… cut. Great job, guys."_

* * *

"_I do remember_

_The swing in your step_

_The life of the party, you're showing off again_

_And I roll my eyes and then_

_You pull me in_

_I'm not much for dancing_

_But for you I did."_

* * *

"_Come on, Di."_

"_I don't like to dance!"_

"_You were a dance instructor, D!"_

"_I didn't teach this kind of dance!"_

"_Please, Di. For me?"_

"_I really can't do slow dances, babe."_

"_Please… Trust me. I'll guide you. Pleeeeease."_

"_Fine."_

"_I love you."_

"_I freakin' love you, too. And make sure I'll still be able to say this to you after dancing."_

* * *

"_Because I love your handshake_

_Meeting my father_

_I love how you walk with your hands in your pockets  
_

_How you kissed me when I was in the middle of saying something_

_There's not a day when I don't miss those rude interruptions…"_

* * *

"_So Heather started screaming, and Lea went out of the room to fetch a broom. And Chris even climbed up the sofa and started shouting for Lea to hurry up! The scene was just so hilarious! If I weren't laughing so hard then, I would've just stepped on that stupid—"_

_We're lying on her bed talking about everything I've missed at their sleepover when I cut Dianna off with my lips._

"_Sorry."_

"_What was that for?"_

"_I missed you. I wish I came with you."_

"_Why didn't you tell me earlier? I should've made you come!" Dianna gives me a wink._

"_Well, you can make me come now…"_

"_Challenge accepted, babe."_

* * *

_"So I'll watch you live in pictures like I used to watch you sleep_

_And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe_

_And I keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are_

_Hope it's nice where you are…"_

* * *

"_Naya?"_

"_Huh?"_

"_We're you even listening to me? I asked if you could go with me and Lea to Italy for vacation."_

"_Oh… Sorry, Heather. Uhh… I don't know. I… I was kind of planning to spend my whole vacation here in California. You know… Just pure rest."_

_Heather sighs. "Are you going to be okay?"_

"_Huh? Yeah…"_

"_She's really worried about you, you know?"_

"_Who?"_

"_You know exactly who, Naya." Heather rest her chin on her hand. "Why can't you just go back together?"_

"_Because we're done, Heather. We… We both screwed up."_

"_Don't you love her anymore?"_

"_What kind of question is that?"_

"_Then why don't you just fix this?"_

"_Because I can't! She deserves so much better."_

"_She doesn't want anyone better, Naya."_

"_How would you know? She's doing pretty well with that Troian girl."_

"_They're just friends! She still loves you, Naya, and you know it."_

"_She'll move on, okay? I just… It's over. Why can't any of you understand that?"_

"_Fine. Stick with your fucking pride, Naya. I hope you'll be able to be happy while regretting this."_

* * *

_"And I hope the sun shines_

_And it's a beautiful day  
_

_And something reminds you_

_You wish you had stayed_

_You can plan for a change in weather and time_

_But I never planned on you changing your mind…"_

* * *

"_But, Dianna, you promised!"_

"_I know, I know. But I can't just let myself miss this chance!"_

"_It's just a photoshoot, Di. I thought I'd be a lot more important than that."_

"_But I'll be back before your birthday, babe. We can just—"_

"_You know we can't, D. God. You can't just cancel our plans just to see Troian!"_

"_Are you fucking kidding me? I'm not doing this because she's going! I'm doing this because I was given an offer from fucking Vogue! Bullshit, Naya. I can't believe we're arguing because of this!"_

"_Well, you know what? How about we just stop arguing? We should even just stop talking to each other!"_

"_What the fuck? Are you breaking up with me?"_

"_I don't know, Dianna. You tell me. Are we working? Is this working for you? Do you even still love me, or did Troian brainwash you al—"_

_Dianna cuts me off with a slap. "Fine, then. You want a breakup? I'll give you your fucking breakup. And I thought you'd be happy for me. Well, happy birthday, Naya. I wish you all the best."_

* * *

_"So I'll go sit on the floor_

_Wearing your clothes_

_All that I know is that_

_I don't know how to be something you miss  
_

_Never thought we'd have a last kiss_

_Never imagined we'd end like this_

_Your name, forever the name on my lips_

_Just like our last kiss_

_Forever the name on my lips_

_Forever the name on my lips_

_Just like our last…"_

* * *

I had to stop the music player because I don't think I can take it anymore if I'll hear another song about us. I toss my earphones away and crawl back to bed, burying my face into my pillow.

Asking myself why I've let my pride stop me from trying to get back with her.

Regretting everything I've done to the girl I loved, the girl I still love, the girl I've hurt.

Cursing myself for ever letting her go.

Wishing the paparazzi would soon post my photos buying her album.

Hoping she would see them, and know that I'm still here, that I'm still in love with her, that I'm also wishing that weren't our last.


	4. If This Was A Movie

**This is a companion to "Last Kiss", so you guys better read the preceding chapter before proceeding with this. But okay, if you don't want to, who am I to force you? :P Both of them can stand as separate one-shots anyway, so….**

**And thanks for cursing me back at the reviews page because of the original plan to make the "Last Kiss" a one-shot. Seriously, I love that guy. Your excellent reviews really motivate me, so keep them coming! XD**

**Oh, and I'm going to do my ranting here, so excuse me. God, the Quinntana duet was disappointing. I was hoping there'd be more interactions, but well, maybe Ryan Murphy just hates me. I really want to slap him so hard right now. -.-**

**And when Santana said to Quinn, "Stop making out with Berry," and something about helping her count the ballots instead, I was thinking she should've said, "Stop making out with Berry, Q, and follow me. I wants to get my mack on, too." :)) Sigh. My unsatisfied fantasies. :( (I sound like a perv.:P)**

* * *

I sigh, take a deep breath, and clench my fists.

I know I shouldn't be nervous. This isn't the first time I'm going to sing in public. Fuck that, this must be the thousandth time I'm going to do this thing. I became famous because of starring in a music show, for Pete's sake.

I close my eyes and mentally slap myself a million times, telling myself to pull myself together, even if I know that I'm not anxious because of stage fright.

The thing is, I'm afraid I'll cry in the middle of the song—the song I've written weeks after our breakup.

"And now, to sing us all a song from her latest album, let's all welcome the one, the only, Dianna Agron!"

Fuck this. I'm an actress. I can do this.

I put on a celebrity smile as I walk to the microphone and let the sounds from the applauding audience and the musical intro fill my ears.

You can do this, Di.

"Last night I heard my own heart beating

Sounded like footsteps on my stairs

Six months gone and I'm still reaching

Even though I know you're not there…"

* * *

_I'm lying on my bed, clutching my pillow tightly. I can almost smell her scent as I close my eyes, imagine my pillow is her, and drown in my tears. Then, I hear my door creak open and footsteps coming closer to me. I don't make any movement to know who came into my room though._

_I don't care if it's a robber. Let him steal everything he could steal. I've lost her, I don't care about anything else I own._

_I don't care if it's a murderer. Let him kill me. Please, why won't anyone just kill me?_

_I got kind of disappointed when I hear my bestfriend's voice._

"_Di…"_

"_Leave me alone."_

_I feel her sit beside me, and I bury my face further down my pillow._

"_She's never coming back, is she, Lea?"_

"_She… She's trying, okay? She wants to fix this, but she thinks she doesn't deserve you anymore. She—"_

"_So, she's not."_

"_You know Naya still loves you, right?"_

_And I still love her too. So freakin' much, and being away from her hurts just as much._

* * *

"I was playing back a thousand memories, baby

Thinking 'bout everything we've been through

Maybe I've been going back too much lately

When time stood still and I knew…"

* * *

_I open Naya's bedroom door to find her sitting on her bed with her back resting on the head board. Her eyes are closed, her hands are busy softly strumming a guitar, and her ears are blocked with headphones._

_As I approach her, I listen to her half-whisper and half-sing a song._

"_Oh, you could be her soldier, her knight in shining armor. I'm sure you want to make her feel how much you love her…"_

_I slide down beside her and lift her headphones off. "Your hands are so talented, babe," I whisper in the lowest voice I can muster and send her a suggestive smirk._

_Naya opens her eyes and places her guitar down beside the bed. "Oh, you have no idea. Wait. You do!" She returns my smirk and gives me a chaste kiss._

"_Mmm-hmm. And your voice? God, you must be exercising your vocal chords really well."_

"_You bet I do. I spend every night screaming a certain someone's name. Wait. What's her name again?"_

"_It'll be a pleasure to remind you, babe." _

"_Kidding. Of course I'll never forget your name. It's my favourite word next to 'fuck'." We both laugh, and she rests her forehead on mine. "I never thought I'd ever share a dirty conversation with you, Di."_

"_Yeah, but you've always dreamed of it."_

"_What? Could you blame me? You were always driving my libido crazy especially when we weren't together yet! Every intimate scene we had to tape because of our stupid love team was a torture for me! You always leave me sexually frustrated…"_

"_Well, I'm all yours now."_

"_I love you, Dianna."_

"_Shut up and kiss me, Naya."_

* * *

"Come back, come back, come back to me like

You would, you would, if this was a movie

Standing in the rain outside 'til I came out

Come back, come back, come back to me like

You could, you could, if you just said you're sorry

I know that we could work it out somehow

But if this was a movie, you'd be here by now.

I know people change and these things happen

But I remember how it was back then

Locked up in your arms and our friends were laughing

'Cause nothing like this ever happened to them

Now I'm pacing down the hall, chasing down your street

Flashback to the night when you said to me

That nothing's gonna change, never me and you

Not before I knew how much I had to lose…"

* * *

"_That was fantastic, baby." I hug Naya and plant a kiss on her lips after her Glee solo._

"_Stop satisfying my ego, D."_

"_What? It's true!" We stay in each other's arms with our eyes locked on each other for some time._

"_Hey. Earth to Naya?" I smirk when she looked kind of startled._

"_Huh?"_

"_You were staring at me for the last one hundred hours. A penny for your thoughts?"_

_She smiles and says, "I… I love you, Di."_

_I giggle and let our noses touch. "I love you, too, you dork."_

"_Get a room!" We look at a smirking Cory and our other present cast members who looks like they've been watching us the entire time._

"_We're planning to!" Naya shouts back and we share one last kiss before heading back to the dressing room._

* * *

"Come back, come back, come back to me like

You would, you would, if this was a movie

Standing in the rain outside 'til I came out

Come back, come back, come back to me like

You could, you could, if you just said you're sorry

I know that we could work it out somehow

But if this was a movie, you'd be here by now…

If you're out there, if you're somewhere, if you're moving on

I've been waiting for you ever since you've been gone

I just want it back the way it was before

And I just want to see you back in my front door…"

* * *

_Heather drops a thick record book and a box of pens on my bed._

"_What does Dianna Agron often do before, during, or after an extraordinary relationship?"_

"…_Write a song about it?"_

"_Exactly. Since you've been miserable for the past few weeks, why don't you start writing? It might help ease the pain, you know. And look at the bright side. You're like Adele who earns millions just because of breakups!"_

"_As if I'll ever get over Naya."_

_Heather stops for a moment. "Well… If you don't get over her, then maybe if we release your songs, she'll hear it. Then, she'll figure out the songs are all for her, and then she'll come back to you, then you'll get back together! Yay!"_

_I just huff and plop back down on my bed._

"_Please, Di. Just try it. For me?"_

"_Fine. For you."_

_And for that possibility of us getting back together because of my songs._

* * *

"And I'll say

Come back, come back, come back to me like

You would before you said it's not that easy

Before the fight, before I locked you out

But I take it all back now

Come back, come back, come back to me like

You would, you would, if this was a movie

Standing in the rain outside 'til I came out

Come back, come back, come back to me like

You could, you could, if you just said you're sorry

I know that we could work it out somehow

But if this was a movie, you'd be here by now

You'd be here by now

It's not the kind of ending you wanna see now

Baby, what about the ending

I thought that you'd be here by now

Thought that you'd be here by now…"

I give the audience one final smile before quickly changing into my casual clothes and rushing out of the building to reach my car in a jiffy. I don't even care if there are other people in the car with me; I have to let all of the tears flow once I've slammed my car door shut.

Emily, my personal assistant, reaches out a hand to rub my back, while Jessica, my publicist, squeezes my left hand and hands me a box of tissues.

Once I've recovered, Emily hands me a bunch of stapled papers. "I thought you might want to see this."

It was a printed article. I scoff when I see Naya's face on the first page. "Is this some kind of a joke?"

Jessica rolls her eyes. "Just read it, Di."

My eyes widen when I read the headline in bold, capital letters: "**Naya Rivera: Still Hung Up On Dianna?**"

My eyes dart back to Naya's photo and I see that she's clutching on, unmistakeably, a copy of my latest album.

I can't help but smile a little. "I guess she kept her stupid hobby."

I look up to see Jessica and Emily staring at me.

"What?"

"Well," Jessica starts, "What are you going to do about it?"

"About what?"

"Well, obviously, the girl's still in love with you."

"She's not. She's just… I don't know, maybe doing it for publicity."

"Face it, D. She doesn't need any more publicity. Besides, she has this upcoming romantic movie. This is surely not good for her. So, it's either she didn't intend for this to go straight to the Hollywood gossip news and all she wanted was to buy your album, or she did this on purpose because she wants to send you a message!"

"…So?"

"I'm sorry if I'm about to curse at you but fuck this, Di." Emily snaps. "Why don't you just get back together?"

"What do you want me to do? I wasn't the one who broke us up, Em. Well, fine, I sort of did, but she was the one who hinted she wanted that. Don't you think it will be silly if I'll be the one who'll drop my knees in front of her and beg her to come back to me?"

"You know what's silly? It's that you both haven't gotten back together after months of sulking and misery! Everyone knows you both want to fix this."

"What? Are you blaming this on me? It's a two-way road, and if there's one of us who should be fixing this, I'm certainly not that one."

Emily opens her mouth again, but Jessica cuts her off. "Drop it, Em. Let her be. Let her do nothing about their stupid ending."

I cross my arms and look out of the window. "Even Santana and Quinn never got a happy ending…"

"That's because they're too young, and Quinn's mother is against them, whereas you've got only your pride getting in your way."

"Well, Santana would've dropped her every bit of her bitchiness and fought for Quinn, whereas Naya would never step on her pride," I snap back at Emily.

She just huffs. "Well, at least they ended with an 'I love you' and a passionate kiss."

_As if I don't want my own happy ending._

"Argh. I hate it when everybody frowns. Everyone up for ice cream to cool down?"

"But, Jess, it's snowing!"

"So, what, Em? Are you turning down my offer?"

"For ice cream? Never."

"D?"

I offer Jessica a small smile. "Sure."

"Yay! Now, everyone stop frowning. Even you, Adam." Our driver flashes Jessica as smile. "That's it. See? Now, everyone's happy!"

_Not quite._

* * *

After over an hour in an ice cream parlor, the whole ride to my house is filled with silence. When we reach my gate, though, Emily gasps.

"Oh, God, Dianna."

"What?"

"She's here."

"Who?" I try to look out my window and see through its moist.

"Get out of the car."

"What?"

"Get out of the car now, Dianna."

"What? Are you—"

"Yes, Dianna. I know you're my boss and all, but just please get out of the car."

I look at Jessica who just nods at me, so I pull my jacket closer and step out of the car. When I get outside, I finally see the girl Emily is talking about sitting out of my gate.

When my heart starts racing, I know that I don't have to see the person's face to know who she is.

I walk up to Naya who's slightly yet evidently shivering. When she looks up to see me, I see her swallow.

"Didn't anyone let you come in?"

_Great. After months of not talking to your ex, that's all you can come up with?_

"I didn't knock." Her voice is low and hoarse.

"So you really intended to freeze here to death?" She looks down and I drag her by the arm inside my house to make her sit on the couch.

"How long have you been out there? Wait here. I'll get some warm water."

Naya stops me by grabbing my arm.

"I… I tried to get here as fast as I can after you finished that song. I-I came here because… You know." She clears her throat before half-singing and half-reciting, "I just want to see you back in my front door…"

She bites her lip before continuing, "I know I've been such a bitch and I've almost killed myself for that. Every day, I go crazy trying to think of how to fix this, but I never had the courage to do so just because I thought I'm not worth it. I thought you're better off without me, anyway. I thought I deserved losing you and that you deserve better. But now, I had to at least try, because I really can't take it anymore. I know, I want to slap myself too because fate had to make me go through a lot of months of weeping and suffering before it could get me back to my senses. I really want to believe your song and how I could fix this all if I would just apologize, but I know that saying I'm sorry will never be enough. I've never stopped loving you, Dianna, and I'd understand if you don't feel the same anymore because if I were you, I could never forgive myself for every stupid thing I've done. I'm really—"

"Shut up and kiss me, Naya."

"Huh?"

Since I've already wasted a lot more than enough time waiting for this moment, I didn't dare waste any second more before I step closer to Naya and capture her lips in mine.

As her cold lips made contact with mine, I've never felt so warm inside ever since she left.

As I felt her shiver in my arms, I pull her closer and try to share my warmth.

As I felt her tears flowing with mine, I know that we don't need words to say everything that needs to be said.

_Now, this is my kind of movie ending._


	5. I Ship Nayanna

_I. Need. Rest._

It has been a long day for me, and the recording's really left me with no energy. I guess it's just a typical day on set.

I rush to my trailer and collapse on my mini-bed. I'm too tired to even open my eyes until I feel a weight on my legs.

I snap my eyes open and smile at the girl sitting with her legs draped over my lap. She responds by kissing me hard on the lips. I groan and sit up when she pulls away.

_Fuck rest. All I need is her kisses to stay awake._

"Why do you look so happy, Di?" I asked my girlfriend with one eye still closed.

"Nothing."

"Let me guess… You were stalking people on Tumblr again?"

"I wouldn't call it stalking! Besides, they tagged my name in their posts, Nay."

"No, they didn't. Your name isn't Quinn Fabray, remember? You're Dianna fucking Swagron! Though Dianna Rivera sounds pretty catchy…"

Dianna shifts her position so her head is now resting on my chest. "Swagron, huh? How about Naya Swagron? Still sounds catchy?"

"Hmf. I don't care about my name, D. As long as your last name would be replaced with mine, I don't freaking care even if your last name was… I don't know, Murphy? Woodlee? Oh, Figgins? Oh! Pettyfer! Naya Pettyfer?" I try to smirk at a pouting Dianna, though I actually want to puke at the combination of my name and Dianna's ex's. "You? Would you still take my last name if it were… say, Ushkowitz?"

"I don't care about your name, babe. I don't even have to have it. But if you want me to have it, that's fine. I'm good as long as I have you. Totally worth it."

_I just love how this girl spoils my ego._

Abruptly, she sits up and beams at me. "But, Nay, they really liked our duet!" I get confused when she suddenly frowns. "Please don't give me that look."

"What look?"

"That look you always have when I try to convince you to come out in public. I'm just saying—"

"I wasn't giving you that look!"

"Yes, you were. I wasn't going to convince you by sharing stories you about our fandom, you know."

"I wasn't! Really, Di. I wasn't."

She bites her lip before throwing herself back down at me. She presses her nose against my cheek and mumbles, "I hate HeYa. Don't get me wrong. Heather's hot and pretty and all, and I love her very much—"

"And we have this undeniable chemistry…"

"Yeah, yeah. Sure. And I love Brittana. It's cool, though Quinntana would be a lot hotter…"

"Though, it might be unbelievable just because it's too crazy and too hot."

"Yes, but Nayanna's still the greatest."

"Huh? I really like Faberry too, you know…"

Dianna sits up and gives me a death glare. "Stop it. That's impossible to happen! Seriously!"

"Well… But then, you have to admit that Achele's kinda hot, too."

"Hot? Please don't tell me you've imagined me and my bestfriend…" Her eyebrows furrow as I smirk. "Naya…"

"What? Babe, it is not my fault that my imagination's really wild."

"Yes, very wild. Nay, that's just disturbing!"

"It's not that disturbing! I'm telling you, it's a hot fantasy."

"You're such a lesbo, Naya."

"It's funny when it's coming from you, babe."

"Whatever." Dianna sticks out her tongue, then wraps her arms around me and nuzzles my neck.

"Di?"

"Hm?"

"I was kidding. I ship Nayanna and only Nayanna."

"So freakin' charming, babe."

"Quoting me now, D? You love it."

"Mmm-hmm. And you. I love you, Naya."

"I love you, too, babe."

"I know right."

"Oh, and Di? Glee's almost over."

"Yeah. And? You'll miss me? You've told me that a thousand times!"

"Well, that, too. And we can… You know… Go public."

"… Okay then. But not too soon."

"Huh? Why not? I thought you've been waiting for so long for this?"

"Hey, I'm not the only one! Among the two of us, I'm not the one itching to come out because of my uncontrollable libido." She rolls her eyes and I just shrug. "I just need some time to get ready first. You know, brace myself for what all those Brittana and Heya fans could do to me when we come out."

"Hey, the Faberry community's just as big, if not bigger! Besides, they'll love Nayanna. And it's not as if you'll let them get in our way, babe."

"Fine… And you know, Rivergron's got a ring to it."

Now, I'm really too tired to answer that, so I just kiss her forehead and shift our positions so we're now both lying down.

It's the silly, pointless conversations we share like this one that remind me she's the one.

It's the way she could make me smile just by saying hollow things that make me realize that I'll always love her and that nothing could ever change my love for her.

Not even when she whispers against my neck, "But, you know, I really like Faberritana."


	6. Like We Used To

_Fuck this._

I'm Santana fucking Lopez. I can't just watch Frankenteen have his way with Quinn. Quinn is mine. I have to do something about this.

I try to calm my nerves and direct my eyes to the whiteboard with the word "Whitney" written across it.

_Fuck Hudson._

Mr. Schuester comes in the choir room with his thousand-watt smile. "Ok, guys. Who's going to volunteer to go first for our week's assignment?"

_Time to shine, Santana._

I shoot my hand up in the air, and Mr. Schue motions for me to take his place in front of the club. Instead of grabbing the one for "Saving All My Love for You", I seize a different set of musical sheets and hand it to the band.

As the band starts to play, I see some of the people give each other questioning glances. I take a deep breath and lock my eyes on Quinn before starting to sing.

"I can feel her breath  
As she's sleeping next to me  
Sharing pillows and cold feet  
She can feel my heart  
Fell asleep to its beat  
Under blankets and warm sheets

If only I could be in that bed again  
If only it were me instead of him…"

* * *

_We're having a sleepover when Quinn and I finally came to be.  
_

_I was watching Quinn while she's asleep. I can't help it. She looks very beautiful when her face looks so peaceful, like she doesn't have family and emotional problems._

_I don't even bother looking away when her eyelids flutter._

_Quinn closes her eyes again, then reaches for a pillow and smacks it in my face. "Good morning, stalker."_

"_Did I really look that creepy?"_

"_Frankly, yes. If you weren't so beautiful, I would have yelled when I saw you staring."_

"_Did you just say I'm beautiful?"_

"_Mmm-hmm. And you're hot."_

_I can't help but smile and want to kiss her right there and then._

"_Q?"_

_Finally, she opens her eyes._

"_I love you."_

_When I said that, all I expected was a giggle or maybe an "I love you, too, San", but instead, she just made my dream come true._

_She kissed me hard._

* * *

"Does he watch your favorite movies?  
Does he hold you when you cry?  
Does he let you tell him all your favorite parts  
When you've seen it a million times?  
Does he sing to all your music  
While you dance to Purple Rain?  
Does he do all these things  
Like I used to?"

* * *

_Quinn and I are arguing in her bedroom during our weekly movie marathon._

"_But, Q," I whine. "We've watched that a thousand times already!"_

"_But I love Mulan," she pouts. "And you love me!"_

"_Yeah, and so?" I stick out my tongue._

"_Santana, you have to love whatever the one you love loves!"_

_"That's just a tongue twister, Q."_

_Quinn crosses her arms and huffs like a kid. "Fine. We'll watch whatever shitty movie you want to watch, but no cuddling."_

"_What? But, Q, cuddling is what we're watching the movies for!"_

_Quinn just shrugs. "You've made your choice, San."_

"_Aww, fine. But I'm doing this only because I love your cuddles."_

"_Yes. And me. You love me." Quinn kisses me on the cheek and sets up the DVD._

"_Yes. And because I love you. And you love me back."_

_Quinn walks back to the bed, puts her legs over my lap, and rests her head on my chest. "Mmm-hmm. I love you back, Lopez."_

* * *

"Fourteen months and seven days ago  
Oh, I know you know  
How we felt about that night  
Just your skin against the window  
Oh we took it slow  
And we both know  
It should have been me inside that car  
It should have been me instead of him in the dark…"

* * *

"_Stop the car."_

"_Huh?"_

"_Santana, stop the car."_

"_What?"_

"_Just stop the car, San."_

_When I look and see Quinn's serious face, I just sigh and pull up at the nearest parking space._

"_Get in the back."_

"_Quinn, wha—"_

"_Just get in the back," she commands me with a stern voice, and gets out of the car to go to the back seat as well. I huff and follow her._

_When I've closed the door, I turn to look at Quinn. "Wha—"_

_I didn't have the chance to complete my question since Quinn has already started attacking my lips. Well, I don't want to complain so I decided to go with it._

_I feel my body go rigid when I felt her hand slipping underneath my shirt._

"_Q?"_

_She swallows before shrugging. "I want this. I want you."_

"_A-are you sure? I mean, you've never—"_

"_Exactly. Santana, I want you to be my first."_

_For a moment, I forgot how to breathe._

"_I-I love you, Quinn."_

_Quinn bites her lip before leaning in._

_Never am I going to regret her being my first._

* * *

"Does he watch your favorite movies?  
Does he hold you when you cry?  
Does he let you tell him all your favorite parts  
When you've seen it a million times?  
Does he sing to all your music  
While you dance to Purple Rain?  
Does he do all these things  
Like I used to?"

"I know, Love  
(I'm a sucker for that feeling)  
Happens all the time, Love  
(I always end up feeling cheated)  
You're on my mind, Love  
(Oh darling, led her where that leaded)  
It happens all the time, Love…"

* * *

"_Hey, Q!" I smile as I jog towards my favourite blonde who's in front of her locker._

"_What do you want, Santana?" She asks me without even bothering to look at me._

"_Woah. No need to snap at me, princess. Well, you know. The prom's coming up."_

_Quinn snaps her head in my direction and gives me a look of disbelief. She closes her locker, grabs my arm, and leads me to the parking lot._

_When she's sure we're out of anyone else's earshot, she glares at me. "What about the prom?"_

"_What do you think? I want to go with you!"_

"_Well, obviously, I can't, genius."_

"_What? Because you don't want anyone else to know about us? We could always say we'll go there as friends! Besides, Q, we've already dumped our beards a long time ago. We don't have to—"_

"_Santana, I'm breaking up with you."_

_I felt my heart stop. "Wh-what did you say?"_

"_I… I don't want to do this anymore."_

_I try to chuckle. "You're joking, right?"_

_Quinn gives me a cold glare. "Does it look like I'm kidding?"_

"_But… Why? I thought we were—" I stop when I see a bruise on Quinn's arm._

"_H-he found out?"_

_Quinn sighs. "I left my phone in his car yesterday and he scanned through it. He came home drunk last night."_

"_And your mom did nothing about it?"_

"_Well, I guess my mom didn't like the idea of having a dyke as a daughter, too," Quinn snaps. "They won't even talk to me now. I was lucky they didn't kick me out."_

_I reach to inspect Quinn's bruised arm, but she pulls it away. "We… We can't do this, Santana. They're right. This is just so wrong."_

"_Really? I thought it didn't feel wrong when you told me you loved me for the nth time."_

"_I just… need space, okay? Please, Santana."_

"_Fine. I'll give you space. Take your time." I walk away from Quinn without looking back._

_The following day, I was planning to apologize to Quinn and tell her I should've understood her situation, but seeing her making out with Finn in the hallway stopped me._

* * *

"Will he love you like I loved you?  
Will he tell you every day?  
Will he make you make you feel like you're invincible  
With every word he'll say?  
Can you promise me if this was right,  
Don't throw it all away?  
Can you do all these things?  
Will you do all these things  
Like we used to?

Oh, like we used to..."

Everyone in the club has a confused look on their faces, but they clap anyway.

"That was great, Santana. It had all the necessary emotions and vocals, but I don't think your song has anything to do with—"

Mr. Schue stops talking when Quinn bolts out of the room.

_Success._

Finn stands up to follow her, but I push him back into his seat. "Don't you dare go after her, or I swear I'll crush your freakishly big bones to bits."

I don't waste any time and start to run after Quinn, feeling Finn's confused stare follow me until I'm out of sight. I can hear Quinn sob as she runs through the corridor. I run as fast as I can to catch up with her and grab her wrist.

_Thank God for Sue's fatal Cheerio trainings._

"Quinn, I—"

Quinn pulls her arm away from my grasp. "Fuck this, Santana. You know you're right. You know everything you just sang there's right. You know I still love you, and you know I'll never love anyone like I love you. You know I've already decided a long time ago that you're the one. And most of all, you know that despite all of that, we can't do this."

"But, Quinn, I still—"

"Santana, we can't. Just stop it, okay?"

With that, Quinn leaves me there glued in place, feeling my heart stop beating.

_Fuck everything._


	7. It's Not Right, But It's Okay

**NO, it doesn't have anything to do with the song of the same title. The title just… fits the story.**

* * *

It was September when Quinn entered Santana's life as a transferee on her last year of junior high.

On the first day of school, Puck, Santana's bestfriend, nudges her and nods in Quinn's direction. Santana raises an eyebrow at him questioningly, so he just shrugs and mumbles, "She's cute." Santana didn't see it until late December. In the mean time, all she saw in Quinn was an appealing yet typical blonde.

* * *

It was the last day of October when Quinn finally talked to Santana. Santana was at the bleachers, trying to recover from the soccer practice she just had when the blonde cheerleader crossed the field and introduced herself out of the blue. Quinn told her they should have known each other's name a long time ago since their dorm rooms were right next to each other. Santana still didn't have any idea that, soon enough, Quinn would change her life, even when she was sure she felt something weird and somehow ticklish when she shook Quinn's soft hand.

* * *

It was November when their friendship bloomed. After their unusual introduction at the bleachers, they started spending time with each other which is kind of weird since they're both relatively popular and they have a lot of other friends. They had this unspoken interest in each other, nonetheless, and that's enough reason for them to become close friends in just a few weeks, best friends even.

* * *

It was December when Santana finally saw Quinn in a different light, both metaphorically and literally. It was late at night and Santana was reading a novel when she heard someone knocking on her door. When she opened the door, a scared-looking Quinn met her eyes.

"I had a nightmare," she heard Quinn mumble against the pillow her arms are wrapped around in. "Can I stay with you?"

Santana shrugged and opened the door wider, motioning for Quinn to get in.

Quinn sat on Santana's bed and leaned against the wall. As Santana looked at Quinn's lampshade-lit face, she finally realized how beautiful her friend is, even if she was only wearing an oversized sweatshirt and her hair's only tied in a messy bun then, and mentally slapped her forehead when she asked herself how she couldn't have noticed that before.

She mentally slapped herself even harder when Quinn turned to her and said, "I know, it's silly that I'm still scared of nightmares. You're not going to laugh at me, are you?" and she absent-mindedly replied with, "You're beautiful." Thankfully, Quinn just smiled and never teased her about it.

She mentally slapped herself the third time when Quinn caught Santana staring at her while she's asleep the next day.

* * *

It was January when Santana had a hard time shrugging away her confusion about her feelings for Quinn. She felt electricity rushing up her spine whenever Quinn touches her, but she argued with herself saying she's imagining everything. She felt hot whenever Quinn's dangerously close to her, but she convinced herself it's just the weather. She always caught herself staring at Quinn's face, but she tells herself it's just that Quinn's really stunning. When she almost gave up convincing herself that she was not—she could not even say the g-word—"confused", she told herself it was just the puberty hormones that are bugging her.

* * *

It was February when Santana began to ponder—finally—about her emotions. She just couldn't deny it anymore, especially after what Quinn did on Valentine's Day. She handed her a giant teddy bear with an "I Love You" written on the heart it's holding. Yes, cliché, but it still made Santana's heart go faster than lightning. When she asked Quinn why she gave her the present, she couldn't figure out why Quinn's answer made her knees weaken. "What? It's Valentine's Day, right? An excuse to spoil your loved ones. Don't you love me back?"

* * *

It was March when they finally admitted their feelings for one another, even though they did it indirectly. They were sitting close to each other on Santana's bed, doing their homework together. Quinn, being the smarter one, was doing most of the talking, and Santana couldn't help but let her eyes wander to Quinn's lips long enough for Quinn to catch her. Quinn cleared her throat, causing Santana to be startled and to snap her head away from Quinn's face. However, Quinn touched Santana's chin, causing the latter to shiver, and guided her head to face her own. Santana closed her eyes as Quinn leaned in closer, stopping when their lips are a few millimeters away from each other—close enough that their lips connected slightly as she asked Santana, "This is not right, is it?" With that, Santana opened her eyes and pulled away, and Quinn took a deep breath and continued discussing the homework from where she stopped.

Their confession wasn't built with words, but they didn't need them anyway. The fact that they liked each other a lot more than friends just didn't need to be spoken.

* * *

It was April when Quinn asked Santana what they really were.

Santana answered with a monotonous, "Friends. What else could we be?"

Quinn mumbled, "Then we're not doing wrong, are we? Even if I like you?"

Santana had to swallow before letting out an almost inaudible "yeah".

She almost answered a "me, too" when she heard Quinn say something that she thought Quinn had never intended for her to hear, "But I wish you were mine."

* * *

It was May when Quinn knocked on Santana's door one midnight and cried her heart out because of the news about her mother having cancer, clutching at Santana like her heart depended on it. When she almost cried with Quinn when she saw her so vulnerable, Santana realized that all she wanted was to be at Quinn's side forever to protect her and save her when she falls. As Santana holds Quinn, rubbing her back and stroking her hair until they fell asleep in each other's arms, that's when she fully accepted that she loves Quinn so much. No, scratch that, that she's deeply in love with Quinn.

It was then that she wondered if being in love with Quinn is worth being wrong after all.

* * *

It was June when Santana thought she made the biggest mistake of her life. She turned down Quinn's invitation to go to their farewell ball with her. She argued that it won't be wrong since it won't necessarily be considered a date and they'll only be going as friends. Santana wasn't convinced and declined anyway. Instead, she chose to go with a quarterback who's far from being as attractive as Quinn.

She immediately regretted what she did when she saw Quinn walk into the hall with Puck. Yes, among all people, she came in with Puck. And fuck, did she look breathtaking. Quinn looked like an angel in blue and looked prettier than ever, if that's even possible. Her perfect face and body paired with her beautifully-styled blonde hair and astounding smile stood out among the huge crowd. Seeing Quinn as flawless as ever made Santana's mouth dry, her mouth slightly open, her stomach fill with butterflies, and her heart break into tiny pieces.

Oh, how she wished it was her who's holding Quinn close on the dancefloor.

* * *

And it was July when they had to say their final goodbyes before going their separate paths. Quinn had pulled Santana to the side of the auditorium, away from all their ecstatic schoolmates and their crying parents.

"Would it be wrong if I hugged you right now?"

"Friends hug, right?"

Quinn thought that was close enough to a "yes", so she wraps her arms around the Latina's waist, pulling their bodies impossibly close.

"Will it be wrong if I'd tell you I love you?"

"Some friends tell each other that, too, sometimes."

"Then, I love you, Santana."

"I love you too, Quinn."

"Will it be wrong to ask you to be my girlfriend before we part ways?"

"I think you know the answer to that very well."

"Will it still be wrong if I wanted to do so, but I won't say it?"

"I… I don't know. Maybe."

Quinn pulled away and surprised Santana with a kiss on the lips.

When she saw Santana's face fill with shock, she just shrugged and said, "I'm going to hell, anyway." She gave Santana a smile that she thought would be the last one she'd be able to give her and started to walk to the front of the auditorium.

Santana surprised Quinn by grabbing her wrist, turning her around, and kissing her hard. When they both pulled away, Santana just shrugged and smirked. "See you there, Fabray."

On their ride home to their own houses, both of them were looking out of the window, wishing they'd see each other again, hopefully someplace rather than hell. After all, they're each other's first love, each other's most evil, yet sweetest sin.


	8. Knight in Glossy Green Postit

**I got this idea when I was thinking of a story that would've went well with the lyrics of "A Thousand Years", but Iv figured this story will be better of without those lyrics. :))**

**So... Yeah. And don't mind the dates on this fic. They're probably messed up since I just picked random ones. Hahahaha.**

**And I'm also apologizing for those who got confused when I uploaded the last two chapters. I uploaded the same for the two and only realized it after ten minutes. I uploaded the right document for the last chapter as soon as I could though, so yeah. **

**Oh, and send me reviews if you have any suggestions, like a sequel for example. :)**

**Enjoy. :)**

* * *

Quinn was twelve when she had new neighbors. They were a rich Hispanic family of three—a nice-looking father, a cheerful mother, and a timid daughter. The kid, her name was Santana, was the same age as her, but they never really hung out since Santana barely left her house.

* * *

Quinn was thirteen when her soccer ball broke. She came home scowling and threw the ball angrily in their yard. When her father saw her deep frown, he promised her he'll fix the ball first thing in the morning.

When Quinn went to where she threw her ball, though, she found it fixed and good as new. A green post-it was stuck to it, and it read, "Please don't frown. You're prettier when you're smiling."

* * *

Quinn was fourteen when her parents got a divorce. When her father left her to her mother, she was devastated. She would spend most of her time out in their yard, crying her heart out while sitting on her swing.

One day, when she went out to do her daily routine of weeping, she found a box on her swing. There was a green post-it on the box which read, "When I feel lonely, stuffed toys make me feel better." She opened the box to find a fluffy teddy bear. Since then, she went to sleep with the bear wrapped around her arms every night.

* * *

Quinn was fifteen when she had her first slushie facial for joining the glee club. The next day, she found a raincoat in her locker. On it, a green post-it read, "Just in case." She smiled to herself and silently thanked her hero, whom she named "Knight in Glossy Post-it".

It was the same year when the rumors about Finn cheating on Quinn went out. Sure enough, she found another gift from her mystery hero. She laughed when found a goofy picture of Finn in her locker with a green post-it saying, "You're way out of his league. Let this douche go."

* * *

Quinn was sixteen when she committed the biggest mistake of her life; she got pregnant. She lost everything—her popularity, her boyfriend, her friends, her clean reputation. At least, she lost everything except her Knight in Glossy Post-it. One day, she opened her locker to find a bundle of notes which amounted to five hundred bucks. The post-it read, "I know it's not much, but take it. Take care of yourself."

During Quinn's first night at Puck's, she found her favorite pillow waiting for her in bed. There was the green post-it again saying, "Couldn't fit it in your locker. Sorry if I had to sneak in your room. Sleep well, Princess."

The thought of someone sneaking up into her room didn't creep Quinn out the tiniest bit. Despite the circumstances, she even managed to smile because her knight just called her a princess.

* * *

Quinn was seventeen when the whole school found out about her other self, "Lucy Caboosey". Of course, her hero made a move again. She found a rose on her locker one day. The post-it read, "Don't listen to them. You're beautiful."

* * *

Quinn was eighteen when she got into a car accident. When she first opened her eyes, she found a tray of apples on the table next to her hospital bed. Despite her condition, she smiles when she sees a green post-it on one of the apples. "I heard you like apples, Princess. Get well soon. I'll pray for you."

It was the same year when she graduated fifth in her batch next to two unfamiliar school geeks, Mike, and their valedictorian, Santana. When she went to empty her locker, she saw a box of chocolates with a green post-it. "Congratulations for making it to Yale! Good luck. :)" At that moment, she felt a little sad to leave Lima since it meant leaving her hero without even knowing who he is.

* * *

Quinn was nineteen when she found a familiar face in the school library.

"Santana?"

Santana looked up and smiled at the sight of Quinn. "Hey."

"But… Weren't you accepted in Harvard?"

"Uhh… Yeah. I was."

"Then why are you here?"

"I-uhh…" She bit her lip before continuing, "Don't you want to see me here?"

Quinn giggled before sitting next to Santana. "Of course I do. Like seeing you, I mean. I was just wondering why you chose Yale over Harvard."

Santana just shrugged and smiled.

Finally, after years of knowing just each other's names, they became friends.

* * *

Quinn was twenty when she opened her heart again. She convinced Santana to go out with her to a bar. She had to promise not to get drunk and not to do anything stupid before Santana finally gave in. They ended up stumbling back into Santana's room, making love all night. Not only did Quinn give Santana her first taste of alcohol; she was also the first to take Santana's innocence.

* * *

Quinn was twenty-one when the news about her being gay came out. She was crying in her bedroom, the sound of her schoolmates' snickering ringing in her ears. She looked up at the sound of her door creaking open, and found Santana marching up to her and handing her a handkerchief. She gasped when she saw a green post-it attached to it saying, "Don't waste your tears on those hypocritical bitches. I love you."

She glanced back at Santana, who had her sight down on her shoes.

"It was you?"

Santana bit her lip and nodded.

Quinn stood up and wrapped her arms around Santana's neck, kissing her softly. When they pulled away from each other Quinn whispered, "I love you, too."

* * *

Quinn was twenty-two when she learned everything about her knight. It was their anniversary, and Quinn found a thin, blue notebook on her bed with a green post-it saying, "Read it, princess, and please don't punch me for being such a stalker."

She opened the notebook to read its pages filled with Santana's handwriting.

* * *

_July 30, 2006_

_Today, we moved in Lima. It's a lot different from California, but I like its peacefulness more._

_We also met our neighbors this morning. The daughter's pretty. It sucks that I'm not going to the same school as her, though._

_I didn't even get to know her name. I'll ask Mami later._

* * *

_August 2, 2006_

_Quinn. Quinn Fabray. That's her name. It's beautiful, just like her._

_She looks way too straight, though, so I know I have to stop dreaming. I don't even know if she'll like me to be her friend. I'm way too nerdy, whereas she looks attractive, popular, and simply perfect._

_Argh. I wish I weren't gay, too. Thank God I have understanding (and liberal) parents._

* * *

_October 10, 2007_

_I saw her coming home frowning today. I think it's because her ball has become flat. The sight was really heart-breaking. I really wanted to hug her right then and there, but I remembered maybe she doesn't even know my name. So I jumped through their fence to fix her soccer ball for her, and left her a message on a green post-it. Green—like her mesmerizing eyes that made me fall the first time it made contact with mine. (Yeah, I know, my dear diary. Lame.)_

* * *

_December 16, 2008_

_She's been sitting on her swing, crying for days. I can feel my heart break with every tear she shed. (Yeah, yeah. The girl's turned me poetic.) Since I can't walk up to her and comfort her, I bought her a teddy bear, instead. (Thank God I have rich parents.) I hope she likes it._

* * *

_April 21, 2009_

_I was having lunch when I heard Quinn got attacked by slushies. The thought of her perfect face being hit by ice made me shiver. I always see the glee kids wearing raincoats for that, so I sent her one, as well. I'm glad I'm now in the same high school as her. :) (And yet we're still not friends.)_

* * *

_May 4, 2009_

_Just heard the news about Finn cheating on Quinn. The nerve of that guy. He doesn't deserve Quinn. Not that I deserve her, either. It's just that she at least deserves a man who would treat her right._

_I have to use every bit of my self-control to fight the urge to kick Finn in the balls whenever I pass him by down the corridors._

* * *

_December 20, 2010_

_I can't believe it._

_I just… can't._

_But I'm really sorry for her, getting kicked out of the Cheerios, her house, and everything._

_I would've asked her to stay with me if only we were friends and we weren't neighbors._

_And I sent her money and her pillow instead? Fuck, I must look like a full-blooded stalker now. Argh. (Thank God her house has very poor security. Tsk.)_

_Nah, I don't give a shit. All I want is to give her everything I can give to make her happy._

* * *

_February 9, 2011_

_Lauren. That bitch._

_She spread this thing about Lucy Caboosey to embarrass my princess. The nerve._

_How dare those insecure bitches talk about Quinn like that, calling her fake. I think I should've slapped some of them._

_It's a good thing that Quinn's a fighter. If only it were possible for me to fall further into her, I would have after seeing her conquer so many problems._

* * *

_February 18, 2012_

_I cried so hard today. I've visited Quinn and broke down when I saw her so fragile._

_If only I could take away her pain…_

* * *

_June 30, 2013_

_I've been accepted to every college I've applied for, including Yale, Cambridge, and Harvard. Quinn's going to Yale. Guess where the stalker's going. _

_I'm really glad Quinn's already got what she wants. She's been through a lot, and she really deserves it._

_I really hope I'll have the chance to be friends with her in college. Pretty, pretty please. :(_

* * *

_August 10, 2013_

_OH, YES. HALLELUJAH._

_I feel like jumping up and down my bed singing, "Quinn is now my frieeend. Quinn is now my frieeend!"_

_HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I'VE NEVER FELT SO HAPPY IN MY LIFE._

_I love you, fate. FINALLY!_

* * *

_January 7, 2014_

_Quinn and I did it last night._

_I… don't think I can find words to describe how I'm feeling._

_I'll just spend the rest of the night screaming on my pillow._

* * *

_April 5, 2015_

_REMEMBER THIS DATE BECAUSE THIS IS THE DAY WHEN YOUR DREAM CAME TRUE._

_Now, applaud for the successful stalker. :)_

* * *

Quinn's smile became wider and wider with each page she turned. She even got teary-eyed when she finished reading her knight's journal entries.

Then, her phone beeped.

_Have you read it, Princess?_

Quinn replied almost immediately.

_Yes, you stalker. Where are you? I really want to kiss you right now._

After a second, her door creaked open. Quinn was already running to hug Santana, but she stopped her.

"Wait. You know how much I want to kiss you all day, but before you jump on me, let me finish my speech first."

Quinn folded her arms and quirked an eyebrow. "Fine. Make it quick, or I'll have to attack your lips while you're speaking."

Santana cleared her throat before saying, "Quinn, all I want to say that I love you. I've loved you the second my eyes landed on you back when we were twelve. I've loved you for so long, and I know I'll never love anyone just as much. You've got me, Fabray. You stole my heart and locked it up, and I know I'll never get it back. I love you so damn much, and I want to spend every second of my life being with you, being right beside you to catch you whenever you need me. I—"

Quinn wrapped her arms around Santana's neck and kissed her hard to stop her from talking.

When they pull away, Quinn shrugged. "I told you to make it quick."

Santana didn't really want to complain, so she just smirked and placed a chaste kiss on Quinn's lips. "I mean it. I love you."

"I love you too, my knight."


	9. Why Me?

**Here's your nerd!Santana and bubbly!Quinn one shot, all because of an anon request and just because it's mainstream. :bd**

**Oh, and I might write another similar one-shot. :)) Keep your requests coming. :)**

* * *

"Baby, dance with me," my girlfriend says loud enough for me to hear her voice over the loud club music.

I bite my lip and shake my head. "I can't dance," I scream back.

"Yes, you _can_. You just don't want to."

"I'm just saving myself, no, both of us, from humiliation. And I'll clarify my earlier statement; I can't dance _well_."

"Please, baby. For me?" She gives me a hopeful look, which I reject with another shake of my head.

Quinn huffs, crosses her arms, and sits next to me. "Fine. I'm never going to dance for you, then."

_I hate it when she pouts._

"Aw. Come on, Quinn." I wrap an arm around her which she pushes away.

"Nah. I get it, Santana. You'll always be a stereotypical, nerdy killjoy."

"Hey!" Now, it's my time to pout.

"What? It's true. You can't even dance for me." She pouts even deeper.

"For your information, nerds are _not_ killjoys. It just so happens that our own form and idea of entertainment is, to a certain extent, distant from the one other people, whom you would identify as average, would depict." I fix my glasses that just slipped down the bridge of my nose while I was talking.

Quinn narrows her eyes at me. I scowl as she mutters, "What a nerd."

I look away and utter, "Well, it's not my fault that you were attracted to a worthless, _killjoy_, homosexual nerd. I shouldn't be held responsible for your circumstance in which you don't have a boyfriend to dance with."

I hear Quinn sigh and feel her arms finding their way around my waist. "Hey. You're not worthless."

I scoff. "Yeah, right. Look, Q. I really would want to dance with you and I don't even care if that will make me embarrass myself in front of other people. I just don't want to embarrass you. I think it's just about time I stop ruining your life. You've already took enough slushies for me back at school. If it weren't for me, you'd still have your flawless reputation. I mean, look at you. You're exceedingly attractive, exceptionally shrewd, unbelievably compassionate, and just… perfect. Now, look at me. I'm a nerdy, gay nobody. Nobody cares if I get straight A's. Nobody cares if I can speak five languages fluently. Nobody cares if I have the periodic table memorized. I can't use all of those against my daily dose of slushie facials. I… I'm sorry for rambling."

Before Quinn can say something, I groan, stand up, and grab Quinn's arm.

"What are you doing?"

"You said wanted to dance."

"And you said you didn't want to."

I don't answer until we're already on the dance floor and I've already guided Quinn's hands to my neck. "For you," I smile and shrug.

Quinn smiles back at me before resting her forehead against mine. "I… I love you, you dork."

I stick my tongue out and whisper, "I love you, too, nutcase."

As Quinn and I start to look like idiots slow dancing to a rap remix, I sigh and get lost in thought.

I unintentionally utter the words that have been running through my mind from the day Quinn first kissed me until right at this very moment where I'm in her arms.

"Why me?"

Quinn gives me a confused look. "Huh?"

I swallow and brace myself for whatever she's going to answer me.

"Why me?" I repeat. "Why did you choose me? Why did you fall in love with me, among all people? Why did you settle for me when you can have anyone you want? Why… Just why me?"

Quinn giggles before half-yelling back at me. "Do we really have to talk about this on the dance floor?"

I grin, hoping it would hide my disappointment, and shake my head.

"I didn't settle, Santana," she suddenly screams. "You're the one I want. I love every single thing about you, especially your being nerdy. I love how your glasses slip down the bridge of your nose every second. I love how you make me drown in your deep, unfamiliar words. I love how you wince whenever you hear people say things that are, as you would say, grammatically incorrect. I love how you smile in appreciation whenever I laugh at your nerdy jokes, even when you know that I laugh at almost everything. I love how you randomly say geeky things out of the blue. Your weirdness is just too cute. Most of all, I love you because you love me."

She inhales deeply before continuing, "I love the way you're always proud of me. Even when I act like a child around a lot of people and sometimes I get too cheerful, you never get ashamed of me. I love the way you look up at me. You always show me how perfect I am in your eyes, even when I'm not. I love how you think you're the luckiest person on earth because I'm yours. I love how you love me so much that you came with me here, even if I know you hate crowdy, noisy places. No one could ever love me the way you do, Santana, and I want to spend each day of my life loving you back at least half as much as you love me."

I smirk as I yell, "Who knew someone so cheerful could ever be so dramatic?"

"I don't know, but I think nobody could guess that someone so good in academics could be just as good in bed." She winks at me, making me blush like crazy.

"Quinn!" I warn her.

"What? It's true!" She sticks out her tongue before resuming, "Besides, can't I show everyone how proud I am to have the most amazing girlfriend in the whole, wide universe?"

I wrinkle my nose and bite my lip. "You know, being the most awesome girlfriend in the whole universe isn't_ that_ special. Theories say we live in a _multiverse_, not a universe."

Quinn rolls her eyes and gives me a peck on the lips. "Shut up and stop ruining how I express my love for you, you geek." I smile as she leans in and pulls me into a mind-blowing kiss.

I wouldn't be surprised if this girl would be able to kiss my geek soul away, not that I even mind.

* * *

**And I have a one-shot on the TMBA duet coming up. :bd**


	10. Those Unspoken Words

_I love you, Quinn._

Four simple words. Four simple words that Santana can't say- no, that Santana_ shouldn't_ say. She shouldn't even want to say it.

But she does, and she hates it just as much as she loves Quinn.

Now, as she lays facedown beside Quinn, breathing heavily after hours of moaning Quinn's name over and over again, she feels the urge to say those four fucking words for the millionth time in her life. The small size of her bed doesn't help at all, for she can't do anything to avoid having skin contact with Quinn. Quinn's bed would have been a lot more spacious and softer, if only two holy hypocrites weren't lurking in her home. Both of the girls wouldn't want to know how Quinn's parents would react if they would hear their sweet, innocent Quinnie whimpering Santana's name, let alone if they would see their divine, little Mary's fingers inside of another woman. God knows they'll kill Quinn even just if they get a glimpse of Quinn holding hands with Santana.

They started to have "benefits" when Quinn helped Santana to get over her gay panic. Her rubbing Santana's back, in some way, turned into cuddling which, in some way, turned into kissing which, in some way, turned into making out which, in some way, turned into making love—frequently. This gave birth to an agreement between them. They'll let each other crawl onto one another to bed without any question asked, but there'll be absolutely no conversation about it. After they've had their clothes right back on, they'd have to act like nothing happened. But that _was_ never a problem. All they needed was the sex to forget about everything just for a little while. They both needed—still need—it, even when Santana finally had Brittany.

Don't get her wrong. Santana _does_ love Brittany. She didn't lie when she said that nobody could ever love Brittany more than she does. It's just that she loves Quinn—Santana wouldn't dare use the word "_more_"—too, but in a different way. You see, Brittany will always be her soulmate. Everything's just easy between the two of them. They didn't need to talk about things; Brittany wouldn't understand half of what Santana has to say, anyway. Brittany would always believe everything—do everything- Santana would say, and Santana likes that. Santana likes being the one in command, the HBIC.

But with Quinn? Oh, a relationship between them could be messy. They would have to talk about everything, especially about their emotions. And Santana doesn't want that. Santana hates feelings. Feelings suck. Talking about feelings sucks. Spending sleepless nights analyzing feelings sucks. And with Quinn, Santana wouldn't always have everything in her way. She would argue. She'd always speak out her own opinion. She would try to have everything her way like Santana would.

So, being friends with benefits _was_ a great idea. Well, _should have been_ a great idea. They both enjoyed each other's touch very much, and nobody except them would ever know about their, _cough_, "activities", so it's a win-win situation. At least, it would have been, if only Santana never fell in love with Quinn.

Who could blame her though? Ignoring the teenage pregnancy, car accident, and emotional problems, Quinn's simply perfect. Blonde hair, fair and soft skin, hazel eyes, wonderful curves, a strong personality, and a hot attitude—these make everyone want to be with Quinn, or at least get into her pants. Their nightly _adventures_ don't help Santana push away her feelings either. The truth is Santana has always been in love with Quinn. She's loved her first, the first reason she's ever questioned her sexuality.

But then again, she knows her feelings for the blonde will never be requited. At least, she_ thinks_ so. Besides, Quinn isn't gay. Quinn _can't_ be gay. And no, she thinks their late-night escapades don't prove anything, either. It's just that Quinn has been through a lot. She's the one who suffered the most, who's been through the most troubles. She's been knocked up at an early age, she's lost her baby, she's been kicked out of her "holy" Christian home, she's been dumped for a singing midget, she's turned herself into a freakishly hot punk, she's almost lost her legs in an accident. She can't be a _fag,_ too. That'll make her the biggest wreck of mankind, the biggest loser of all losers.

So, again, here she is, lying facedown next to Quinn. Facedown, not only because she collapsed due to extreme exhaustion, but she also needed to bury her face into her pillow. She needs to cover her face—her mouth—because maybe, just maybe, it will help her keep a four-letter sentence from slipping out of her tongue. That doesn't work, though, so she lets herself whisper it over and over again against her pillow, soft enough that if Quinn would ever hear her, she'll only hear a muffled, unclear noise.

_I love you, Quinn._

_I love you, Quinn._

_I love you, Quinn._

She repeats them over and over again, not even stopping when tears started to fall from her eyes. Thankfully, Quinn would never notice. She's already dozed off because of intense fatigue after she turned her back to Santana.

_I love you, Quinn._

_I love you, Quinn._

_I love you, Quinn._

She spends all night whispering to her pillow, not even bothering to give in to her exhaustion and sleep, just because she knows she can never say it enough.

_I love you, Quinn._

_I love you, Quinn._

_I love you, Quinn._

She says it until the sun rises, as if it would make her situation any easier.

_I love you, Quinn._

_I love you, Quinn._

_I love you, Quinn._

She only stops for a moment when she feels Quinn's arms encircle her waist and Quinn's warm breath against her shoulder. "Today's the day," she barely hears.

Yes, today's the day. The day when their four years of hardwork would finally pay off. The day of graduation. The day when they have to finally part. The day when they have to go their separate ways, to chase their own dreams. For Quinn, the path to Yale's the road she has to take; for Santana, it's the one to UCLA. The thought of leaving Quinn pains Santana so much that she almost doesn't even remember that she's leaving Brittany, too, since she has to repeat her last year in high school.

Today's her last chance to confess what she truly feels. The last chance she knows she'll never take.

And she doesn't. She just stays in bed until Quinn has finished showering and closes her bedroom door to race back to her house. She just stays in bed, still facedown, murmuring the same, old sentence that leaves a bitter taste in her tongue with each word that rolls out of her mouth.

_I love you, Quinn._

_I love you, Quinn._

_I love you, Quinn._

But she does go to the ceremony, a second late, with an emotionless expression all throughout the ceremony. She doesn't even acknowledge anyone's presence, though, nor does she say goodbye to anyone. Not to Quinn, not even to Brittany. She just leaves the place as fast as she can after she's gotten her diploma, not even bothering to fake a smile at her proud parents, who are thankfully wise enough not to ask Santana about it. She doesn't even attend the after-party for everyone at Glee. She doesn't even leave her room the whole summer, nor open her cellphone, for that matter.

She just waits until it's time to go, time to leave Lima, time to do everything not to be a Lima loser. She leaves without any intention of looking back, of turning back. She just wants to forget everything she's leaving, everything in Lima, everything especially Quinn.

_She doesn't even try to know that Quinn's been struggling the whole time, too, forcing herself from uttering the same words Santana's afraid for her to hear._


	11. You're Worth This

"_I'm so ashamed of you."_

Those five words, that one sentence—it keeps ringing in Quinn's head.

It keeps on hearing it even if a few moments had already passed when those words rolled out of her father's tongue. It starts to seem louder when she feels her mother's palm striking harshly against her cheek.

Then, it's replaced by a word that she thought she'll never hear from her mother.

"_Leave._"

Her silent tears fall as she storms up to her bedroom, where her girlfriend is sitting on her bed, smiling down at an album full of Quinn's childhood photos that Quinn's mother just handed to her a few moments ago. Even hearing Santana's laugh—her favorite sound—didn't calm her down even one bit.

She doesn't even look in Santana's direction when she calls for her to sit beside her and laugh at her silly photos with her. She just goes straight to her walk-in closet and grabs their almost still unpacked duffle bags and suitcases. She shots a serious look back at Santana's questioning look when Quinn tells Santana to follow her out of the house.

Santana keeps on asking Quinn what's going on from the moment they left the house until the first few minutes they're in the car, but Quinn just dodges the question by looking straight at the road, with her hand gripping the steering wheel tightly, her teeth gritting, and her breathing far from normal. After a while, Santana just drops it and stares out of the window with a concerned look, wondering what's happening, what Quinn is doing, and where Quinn is taking her.

Quinn is impressed by how she's even managing to drive with all of the thoughts running in her mind. She thought her parents would understand, that they would be happy for her. She thought her parents liked Santana, seeing how much they've laughed this morning when she brought her fiance with her to Lima. After a long time of searching, she's already found the one, she's going to marry the one, yet her parents wished that they could slap her back to her senses. They told her what she's about to do is wrong. They told her her being gay is already enough; they told her she should at least find a decent wife. They reminded her that she's one of the most successful lawyers in the whole state, and that she deserves more than a waitress.

But Quinn doesn't want anyone better. Santana's much more than just a waitress. She's changed for Quinn, she tried to be better for Quinn. She struggled to find a better job for her.

And she loves Santana. She'll love her forever. She knew that from the first time they met, back in her office.

* * *

_Quinn pushes her glasses up her nose as a Latina in a simple tee and jeans walks up to her desk. Despite that, Quinn still found the girl attractive the second she laid her eyes on her._

"_No wonder this is her case," Quinn says to herself._

"_Hi?" The girl couldn't have said that any more awkwardly._

_Quinn just smirks and replies, "Well, hi to you, too, Ms. Lopez."_

_Santana clears her throat and takes a deep, audible breath. "I'm sorry. I'm not used to this. I've never talked to a lawyer before."_

_Quinn nods and says, "That's okay. I've already read the summary of your case that Attorney Oliver sent me. You don't have to repeat anything to me if you don't want to."_

_She studies the girl in front of her for a moment before asking, "Do you know me?"_

"_I-I'm sorry?"_

"_Do you know me? Do you know who I am?"_

_Santana blinks before answering slowly, "You're… Attorney Fabray?"_

_Quinn slightly chuckles. "I mean, do you know anything about me besides what my nameplate contains?"_

_She leans into the table and places her clasped arms on it when the girl sluggishly shakes her head. "I am Quinn Fabray. I graduated from Harvard and ranked second in the bar exam. I am one of the highest paid lawyers here in the US. Do you know what that means?"_

_She leans back against her chair when Santana shakes her head again. "That means I can do anything. That means I can handle any case I'm presented with, no matter how few the evidences are, no matter how guilty my client is. That means I handle extreme cases. That means people only come to me when they're guilty, when their cases are hopeless, when they think they're going nowhere but to jail. That means your case is unpromising, that it's almost just as impossible as the rest I've already handled."_

_Santana sits up and cuts her off. "But what I'm saying is all tr—"_

"_Yes, I know. And I'm going to make everyone believe that, but I just want you to see how difficult it would be for you to win this case. I sincerely hope you're not that thin-skinned and you won't start crying or punching me while I tell you this. You see, you're telling us that you've been raped in a dark alley, where, as expected, no evidences nor witnesses were found. A dark alley next to a club you're working in... as a stripper." Quinn smirks at the fuming Latina as she says the last few words. _

"_I am not a stripper. I work there as a waitress."_

_Quinn nods mockingly and sarcastically says, "Of course. Pardon me. I should've said the right word. The strippers and waitresses in bars are very different. You know, the way they're dressed, the way their customers gape at them…"_

_Santana stands up, and smacks her hands against the table, leaning closely to Quinn, giving her a death glare. "Look. I'm a girl who's broke as hell because I've become an orphan at eight and, since then, I have to live my life on my own. I've never stolen nor begged for money, and I assure you that I'll never choose money over my dignity. Did you even wonder why the Brittany S. Pierce helped me to reach you, why she'll pay for your services for me? We were friends back when she was just a backup dancer because we've worked on the same concert tour. That's right. I was a dancer like her back then. I even gave up going to college just to dance! But why am I now just working in a stupid club? It's because I've quitted when my manager tried to take advantage of me, and yes, that's the most proper job I could find as of the moment. I'm telling you, I'm not cheap. I'm far from being cheap, so if I were you, I'd stop it with the insults." _

_At that point, Santana had to breathe deeply because she's already lost her breath. She thought that by now, Quinn would take her seriously, but Quinn doesn't look like she's been moved by her speech at all. Yes, the smirk has been long gone, but it was replaced by a poker face. Deep inside, though, Quinn's really impressed, surprised even. Nobody has ever stood up to her, as far as she could remember. Deep inside, her heart is pounding just because furious Santana is hot Santana. _

_Santana backs up and sits back down her chair. "And for the record, my manager was pretty hot," she mumbles as she inhales another deep lungful of air._

_Quinn clears her throat before replying, "Pardon me if I've insulted you. I'm just used to talking this way. I've become successful this way, you know? By intimidating other people, by making their knees wobble in fright, by making them feel low, by making them think that I'm better than them, that no one could handle me."_

_Santana just nods. "So… You'll help me?"_

"_Of course. That's my job."_

"_Great, then. Is there anything else we should be talking about?"_

_Quinn shakes her head. "For now, I think that'll be enough. I'll just contact you when needed."_

"_Thank you." Santana stands up and starts to leave when Quinn's voice stops her._

"_Is coffee expensive enough for you?"_

_Santana turns her head and quirks a questioning eyebrow._

"_Well, since we're going to spend time talking about your case, I was wondering maybe I could treat you out for some coffee next time."_

_Santana smirks, but blushes anyway. "A friendly talk in Starbucks? Sure. I think that will do." With that, she goes out of Quinn's office door, leaving a faintly smiling Quinn behind._

* * *

She pulls up at the nearest tolerable hotel, which is, of course, already out of Lima, and wordlessly walks to the lobby. She pays for a suite before going back to the car, where Santana is still sitting, and grabbing their bags.

Once they've already been settled in their hotel room, Quinn plops down the bed and breaks the silence they're sharing. "I'll be booking for a flight back to New York later. We'll be out of here by Friday at the latest."

Santana sits beside Quinn before murmuring, "You told them, didn't you?"

Quinn hates how smart Santana can be. She just closes her eyes and utters, "I don't want to talk about it."

She feels Santana lie down beside her and wrap her arms around her. "They think I don't deserve you, do they?"

Quinn opens her eyes, sighs, and turns to face Santana. "I don't care about what they say, okay? We're going to be married in three months, and nothing's going to change my mind." She presses a reassuring kiss on Santana's forehead.

"Even when you know they're right?" Santana asks in a small, almost inaudible voice.

Quinn cups the smaller girl's cheeks before pressing her lips against her nose. "They're not. They're wrong. You're the only one I want, okay? Fuck what everyone else says."

Santana knows better, Quinn's a lawyer for fuck's sake, so she decides not to argue. "I'm so lucky to have you, you know."

"And I am, too, with you," Quinn gives Santana a chaste kiss. "I don't care about anyone else. All that matters to me is you, that you're mine. And don't you dare argue with me. You're worth this all, Santana. I love you."

Santana nods and buries her face into Quinn's neck. "I love you, too, Quinn."

"_I don't care what they say, I'm in love with you..."_

* * *

**Yes, I know I haven't been updating anything lately. I'm just not in the mood for writing, I guess. I'm not in the mood for finishing anything, at least, since I have eight half-finished fics saved in my laptop.**

**I just got this story's plot when I was thinking of a story for an anon request about the stripper and cop. (And yes, I've watched the video and must I say that I've never loved Santana/Naya any less. I've loved her even more, actually. BLONDE NAYA FTW.)**

**ANYWAYYYY, I will TRY to post more fics and updates. I just don't feel like it, okay? :( I don't really know what's happening to me. I should have been inspired with all the Nayanna Quinntana Rivergron goodness we've got this month, but I… I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm sick. Argh. They say it's either appendicitis or ulcer, so… :'(**

**Oh, and I am considering that suggestion of putting up a sequel for Those Unspoken Words. I really just have to get back in the zone, and I promise I'll respond to your requests.**

**Love ya all.**


	12. Too Late

**Umm… A friendly advice: Don't read this if you're emotionally unstable right now. Haha.**

**And... I'm going to update my other fics soon, for those who are waiting for updates. I'm starting with Fate. :)**

**If it were up to me, I'd spend the rest of my life writing fics for all of you, but school's almost here (for me), so my updates will probably be more seldom. Sigh. **

**Anyway, I love you all. Just saying.**

* * *

Blonde hair, fair skin, hazel eyes, a grace beyond compare—the girl sitting on Santana has it all. In other words, she is simply perfect. Despite that though, Santana doesn't feel anything for her. Even now as she gives her all as she presses her lips ferociously against Santana's, the latter still doesn't even sense any hint of the feeling of wanting her back. But how could she even not want the perfect girl back?

Simple. The girl is not Quinn Fabray.

So she pushes the girl off of her and walks out of the bedroom door wordlessly, ignoring the calls coming from her room. She grabs her jacket and keys, then drives away as fast as she can with one destination in mind.

She takes a familiar route through familiar roads and pulls up in front of a familiar house. She doesn't waste any time before ringing the doorbell rather violently.

Santana is surprised when she sees who's at the other side of the door. The better half of Quinn's bestfriend and a good friend of Quinn and Santana's himself, stands there with a hard look on his face.

"What are you doing here?" Finn says flatly, and it's evident in his voice that he's doing his best to stay calm.

"What are _you _doing here? Where's Quinn?" Santana's voice is filled with cracks.

Finn rolls his eyes. "You can't see her here. She's not here."

A tear rolls down Santana's left cheek. "I know she doesn't want to see me, but please just let me. I swear I'll fix this."

"What part of she can't see you don't you understand, Santana?" Finn puts more force in his voice.

Santana opens her mouth to try and convince Finn when a familiar face opens the door a little wider.

"Finn? What's going o—Santana?" Rachel steps in front of Finn.

Santana grabs Rachel's shoulders before begging, "Rachel, please. I need to see Quinn. I need her. I need to see her now."

"S-Santana, y-you… I-I can't…" Rachel stutters when Finn pushes her to the side, pulling her away from Santana's grasp.

"No, let me, Rachel," Finn says, though his eyes stays locked to Santana's face. "I'll take you to her."

"F-Finn…" Rachel warns him, but Finn just keeps on shoving her as he clutches Santana by the wrist and takes her into the house and up the stairs. She tries to follow them until Finn leads Santana into a room and shuts the door locked in her face.

Santana looks around the room, completely ignoring the banging and screaming from the other side of the door. She gives Finn a questioning look since she's seeing no sign of the girl she's looking for, but Finn just keeps her furious look on.

"Where's Quinn?" Her voice is panicking, just like she herself is. "Where is she?"

Finn just nods towards a shelf just in front of Santana.

She turns and follows Finn's line of sight, only to have her gaze directed to a small, porcelain pot.

"Wha—"

"That's her, Santana," Finn yells at her. "Have you forgotten? You killed her! That's why I'm here. That's why we're here. Quinn left this to us. Don't you remember?"

Santana just blinks, what Finn said still not registering in her mind. "I-I don't…"

"You cheated on her!" Finn shouts as he steps forward until his face is only inches from Santana's. "She killed herself because of you! She's just lost her mother, and there she goes, finding_ you_, the only person she has, fucking someone else while she's away! You, whom she has given her heart to despite the fact that it's already badly bruised. You, who promised her you'll love her forever. You, who fucking took her for granted. You have no right to cry right now, Santana, just like you have no right to break her heart."

Santana starts shaking in tears. "B-but… I-I don't…"

"What? You didn't mean to? You're sorry? Well, I'm so sorry, too, because you're way too late." Finn clenches his fists before taking steps away from Santana. "You have no right, Santana. You have no right," he repeats, over and over again, paying no heed to the fact that the girl's already breaking down.

As soon as he opens the bedroom door to leave, Rachel barges into the room, immediately scooping Santana into her arms.

"I-I didn't mean to," Santana breathes into Rachel's neck, hiccupping violently even with Rachel's hands stroking her hair and back. "I-I never wanted t-to hurt her. I never wanted that. I-I love her. I c-couldn't have. I should've…"

Santana keeps on sobbing, making it impossible for her to keep talking. Rachel just tightens her grip around the girl as she closes her eyes and feels her own tears fall down her face.

She almost thinks that Santana wouldn't ever stop crying, but she does, almost an hour later. Her bawling stops abruptly, and she stays in Rachel's arms for a while before sitting up, wiping her tear-stained face, and looking into Rachel's eyes.

"I'm really sorry," she says in a dreadfully small voice, and she's not talking to Rachel. "I… I didn't mean to. I love her. I love her. I love her more than anything. I'm really, really sorry."

Rachel just keeps silent and wipes her friend's tears away. "She'll know. She'll understand."

Santana shakes her head. "No. She won't. She won't hear me. She can't hear me."

"She will," Rachel says as she tucks some of Santana's black strands behind her ear. "She'll know, wherever she is. She loves you. She—"

"I killed her," Santana shouts. "I killed her. She wouldn't hear me. Even if she would, she won't forgive me. I killed her."

"You didn't. You didn—"

"No," Santana raises her voice more. "She won't hear me from here. Right? Tell me."

Rachel just bites her lip and tries to embrace the poor girl again, only to have her arms pushed away.

Santana stands up, looks around, and walks towards the glass sliding doors leading to the bedroom's small balcony. Rachel follows her closely, wondering what Santana's doing.

Santana grips on the railing before murmuring, "Even if I shout on the top of my lungs from up here, she won't hear me, right?"

"Santana—"

"She won't. Even if I go out of this fucking planet, I won't find any way to make her hear me. I won't find any way to let her know I'm sorry. I won't find any way to convince her that I still love her, that I've never stopped loving her, that the fact that she killed herself because of me haunts me in my every dream, in my every thought, in every second of my life. I won't. But I have to. I have to let her know…" She says all of that hurriedly, as tears rapidly rush out of her eyes. Rachel just stands there dumbly, gripping on the railing, too, but her eyes never leaving a blurry figure of Santana, for her vision's already clouded by her own tears.

"But there is one way…" Rachel almost didn't get what Santana uttered.

Then, something happens in a flash. Santana's grasp on the railing tightens as she lifts her feet onto the railing. It takes a second before Rachel realizes what Santana is planning to do, and she screams the word "don't" as she lunges forward and wraps her arms around the girl's waist. But Santana kicks herself free from Rachel's grasp, pushing the smaller girl down to the ground, and herself…

Hours later, Rachel is still shouting Santana's name, but, unfortunately, Finn is right.

Some things are just too late.


	13. I Tried, I'm Trying

You're not in love with Quinn.

You know it. You can't be in love with Quinn when another blonde's still dancing around somewhere deep in your heart.

And you know Quinn knows. You know that Quinn knows her feelings will never be requited, not even when you're both wearing rings on your fingers, rings with both of their names engraved on the inside. You know that Quinn knows you only agreed to marry her because that's the least you can do for her after everything she has done for you, after giving her all to try to make you forget about Brittany. You know that Quinn knows you're cheating on her. You know that Quinn knows you never hesitate flirting or hooking up with someone who's definitely not her.

You know that because, every night, you pretend to sleep when you're listening to her silent sobs, just like what you are doing now.

But this time, you can't take it anymore; so you turn to face her back and hug her from behind, breathing her scent in.

You hear her gasp, and you know she's trying her best to stop crying. When she finally succeeds a minute later, she removes your arms from her and turns to face you.

"I just want somebody to love me," she whispers, taking you back to the time when she said the same words in New York. "What is wrong with me? Why can't anybody love me?"

You gulp before whispering back, "You can be loved, Q. You're just waiting for love from the wrong person."

She nods before closing her eyes. She looks so broken that you can't help reaching out for her hand.

"You deserve so much better than this, Q. So much better than me."

Your heart clenches when she replies, "I don't want anyone better, even when I know you'll never love me back."

"You don't deserve this. You don't have to do this to yourself." You bite your lip, trying not to let the tears fall.

She opens her eyes, revealing a sad, dark look. "You mean you actually care?" The way her question sounds hopeful and not sarcastic nor bitter really stings.

"O-of course," you stutter. "You… You're my wife."

You hear her sigh before she turns away from you. "A wife only on papers."

"What? You think it's hard for me?" You yell as you sit up. "You think I like hurting you? You think I don't spend every single second of my life wishing it was you, wishing it was you from the start?"

"But it will never be me," her small voice bruises your heart. "Will it?"

You sigh in defeat, knowing there's nothing you can do to make her feel better. "I'm sorry. I tried. I swear I tried."

You see her nod for the nth time and tighten her grip around her pillow.

As you slide under the covers and stare at Quinn's back, you whisper, "I'm really sorry."

* * *

When you wake up, you have already expected that you'll be all alone in your bed. You open your eyes and pat your hand all over Quinn's side of the bed, looking for a piece of paper. Quinn always places a post-it on the bed before leaving, saying things like "Good morning! :)" or "Get ready for work, Sleepyhead! :*". This time, though, you don't find any, so you scowl before getting up.

But you find out that Quinn still left you breakfast and prepared your clothes like she always does, and that makes you leave the house to go to work with a heavy heart.

As you are driving, you pull up at a vacant parking space, rest you head on the steering wheel, and cry harder than you ever did your whole life. That's because you know that you haven't tried enough. You know that you haven't tried your best to love Quinn back. You know that you just sort of accepted that you'll never love anyone else without putting up a fight.

But Quinn's the only thing you've ever had, the only thing you've ever owned, the only one who loves you truly. So you wipe your tear-stained face and drive to the opposite direction, deciding to ditch work right then and there.

You turn up outside Quinn's office ten hours later, wearing a sweater and jeans, clutching a bouquet of white roses, Quinn's favorite. She looks startled, but she's emotionless when she reluctantly grabs the flowers from you.

Quinn breaks the silence while you're driving. "Santana, this is not the way home."

You nod. "I know."

Quinn doesn't ask you where you're going or what you're planning to do. She just continues staring out of the window.

You stop when you reach a small gate in between two walls covered by vines. You step out of the car and open the door for Quinn.

You hear Quinn gasp when she enters the gate after you. You can't blame her. The sight's breathtaking.

You know this is her dream—a garden date. You look around and smile; anywhere you look, you'll be met with the color green. Flowers here, flowers there; you know Quinn loves it.

You look back at her and see her rooted on the ground in front of the gate, and you have to shake your head to stop staring at her. She's beautiful, you've known that from the start, but you've never really done this before—stare and admire her beauty.

You walk towards her and hold her hand to snap her out of her gaze. You lead her to a spacious patio, where a set table and a playing rondalla band are waiting for them.

You pull her chair out for Quinn, and smile at her. Quinn gives you a small, quick smile before you sit down opposite her.

Your dinner is filled with silence; you only hear the band softly playing, the wind blowing softly, the clinking sound of your spoons against your plates. You finish ahead of Quinn, and you recall the words you've been practicing hours before as you stare at her, waiting for her to finish.

When Quinn finally places her utensils neatly beside her plate, you take a deep breath.

This is it. This is your chance to finally make things right.

"Thank you," Quinn whispers, looking into your eyes.

You smile weakly as you rub your clammy palms against your pants. To say that you're nervous right now is a big understatement.

"You deserve it," you tell her. You feel your stomach tighten when she just sighs in response.

You meet the gaze of one of the band members, and you nod towards him. He looks at the rest of the band, as they synchronically play a note to start another song.

You stand up, finding it difficult to do with wobbly knees, and walk towards her. As you hear the one playing the double bass start to sing, you drop on one knee and feel your hands shake as you pull out a small box from the pocket in your sweater.

"_When you try your best, but you don't succeed  
When you get what you want, but not what you need  
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep  
Stuck in reverse…"_

You open it, and your mouth goes dry when she doesn't respond, even a minute after.

"Every single moment you've spent with me, I know I've done nothing but hurt you during each second of those times," you begin.

"_And the tears come streaming down your face  
When you lose something you can't replace…"_

"I know I don't deserve you, yet now you're here with me, trying to fix my bullshit heart."

"_When you love someone, but it goes to waste  
Could it be worse?"_

"Quinn, I want to love you back. I want that more than anything else in the world, more than the girl whom I loved for years, the girl who turned me down."

"_Lights will guide you home  
And ignite your bones  
And I will try to fix you…"_

"Quinn, I want to make this right. I want to be with you without everything feeling so wrong. I want us to work. Quinn, I want you. I want you to be my only one. I want to be all yours."

"_And high up above or down below  
When you're too in love to let it go  
But if you never try you'll never know  
Just what you're worth…"_

"I want to try again. I want to try harder. Quinn, I know you're everything I need, and it won't be impossible to love you back. I just need time. I promise I'll do better."

"_Lights will guide you home  
And ignite your bones  
And I will try to fix you…"_

"Let me do things right. Let me try again. Let me make this real. Quinn, marry me."

"_Tears stream down on your face  
When you lose something you cannot replace  
Tears stream down on your face  
And I.._."

You know Quinn's doing her best to keep any of her tears from spilling, and you patiently wait for her answer, your nerves wrecking as you wonder what her reaction would be.

"_Tears stream down on your face  
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes  
Tears stream down on your face  
And I..."_

She stands up and holds out her hand for you to hold. She pulls you up, and you almost stumble; you can't feel your legs, and you know you've never been this nervous before, even when it was Brittany you were proposing to.

"It doesn't work that way, Santana," you hear her murmur. "You can't force yourself to love a person just because she's the right person to fall into."

"If it were that way, no one would have been hurting." You feel your heart sink when she closes the box you're holding. "Let's go home, Santana," she says before walking out of the patio.

You hear the band stop playing, and you breathe deeply. You've never felt this way before, you're not feeling anything at all.

You inhale another deep breath before facing the band and gazing at their frowning faces.

"You know, I don't really know any of you," she tells them. "But I hope you won't mind if I tell you these things because I know I'll explode if I don't let all of these out right now."

She closes her eyes before continuing, "This is not the first time I've been rejected. The first time I've proposed to another girl, I was expecting her to squeal and hug me tightly while saying yes over and over again. But, instead, she started to cry, then she told me that she's pregnant."

You bite your lip as you fail attempting to keep yourself from crying. "She told me she hooked up with a stupid Irish midget a few months before then. I wanted to get angry at her for cheating on me, but I just love her so much. I told her it's okay, that I'll still marry her and treat her child as my own, but she just shook her head and told me the guy already told her he wants to take care of his responsibility. She told me he offered her to marry him, and that I shouldn't marry her, that I should find someone better."

"And I did," you say as you wipe a tear away. "I found Quinn. I found someone better, but the problem is I wasn't asking for anyone better. I didn't want anyone better, and Quinn knew that. But she still took care of me, she let me in. She let herself love me, even when she knows I'll never love her back. She loved me—she loves me so much, too much. All she asked me in return was marriage, and she wasn't even thinking about herself when she asked me to marry her. She did it for me, to let me know that she's there for me, that she'll never give up on me, that someone can love me that much. And I agreed, even when I know I'm still going to hurt her anyway."

"I wanted to marry her again, for real this time. I want to be hers truly this time." You avert your eyes from the ones looking at you sympathetically. "But I guess I deserve this, don't I?"

"You're just going to give up like that?" You look up when one of the boys speaks up suddenly. "She never gave up on you, and now you're just telling yourself that you can't fix this?"

"Follow her," another guy tells you. "Love her. Make her feel it. You can't just do nothing. You have to fight."

One of them drops his violin down to the ground before holding one of your shoulders. "You can do this. I'll pray for you."

You chuckle slightly before giving the guy a surprising hug. You pull away and look at each of them. "Thank you guys," you tell them with a smile, before running out of the place and into the car.

* * *

When you drive to a hotel, Quinn doesn't even tell you that you're not taking the road back home. She just stays silent, making each passing second an agony for you.

You step out of the car and open the trunk, grabbing a duffel bag you've packed with your nightclothes and your clothes for work tomorrow.

Quinn follows you in the lobby and up to your room wordlessly. You clench your fists, trying to bear the pain of seeing your room that's looking so romantic, candlelit, and the bed filled with rose petals.

"I'm sorry," you hear Quinn say as she walks up to you. "I guess you were hoping I'd say yes, huh?"

You just shrug because you didn't know what to expect really. Did you really expect that she'll say yes after everything you've done, after you've taken her for granted? Did you really expect her to give you her heart and all of her, when she already did?

You don't say a word to each other, even after you've both showered and got ready for bed. You spend your time in bed staring at the ceiling until the night ends.

You turn to face Quinn and kiss her forehead, then her nose, then her lips.

"I won't give up on us," you whisper, and you hold her as you drift to sleep.

"_Lights will guide you home  
And ignite your bones  
And I will try to fix you…"_


	14. Who's the Lucky Girl?

"Do I know her, or is she your friend that I still have to meet?"

Dianna groans as I sit beside her on the couch and slip under her blanket. I have been asking her who the "lucky girl" she is crushing on is ever since she unintentionally confessed to me last night that she's gay when I asked her why she's not dating anyone anymore. She has been dodging my questions by rolling her eyes and telling me that maybe she shouldn't have brought me here in Paris with her.

_I hope it's me._

She sighs in defeat as I continue staring at her, still waiting for her to answer. "You know her already," she says, her eyes not leaving the television.

_Hope!_

_I mean, I do know me… Right?_

She rolls her eyes as I smile triumphantly. "Is she famous?"

"Very," she answers monotonously.

_Hooooope!_

"Oooh," I utter, scooting closer to her. "So she's an actress! Or is she a singer?"

_Please say both._

"Both," she mutters as she folds her legs and wraps her arms around them.

_Shut up, you stupid heart. She'll hear you._

I bite my lip, trying to hide my excitement. "I bet it's Lea. Or Heather. Which is it?"

_I bet it's me._

_At least, I wish it's me._

She huffs and turns to me. "Haven't I given you enough clues already?"

"Nope," I say, shaking my head slightly. "I'm your bestfriend. I'm supposed to know."

"I don't see your point," Dianna frowns. "You didn't tell me your relationship with Matt is fake."

I feel my jaw drop.

_Do I have to say that her statement caught me off guard? _

"What are you talking ab—"

"Don't deny it," she says, turning her eyes back to the tv screen. "I've heard you and Harry talking about it. Why didn't you tell me?"

_Because you're the last person that I'd want to know about Matt being my beard._

I open my mouth to answer, but Dianna's phone suddenly rings.

_Saved by the bell._

Her frown immediately disappears when she sees the caller ID on her phone's screen.

"Hey, Taylor," she laughs when she answers.

Then, it hit me.

_Oh, God. It's Taylor. She's crushing on Taylor._

And I actually thought that I might have a chance.

_She did bring me to Paris, right? Twice!_

_And it is the city of love, right? Right?_

_But then again, how do I compare with Taylor fucking Swift?_

"Yeah, yeah. Next time, I'll bring you along, I promise," Dianna continues to smile. "I miss you, too. I'll come back soon, okay? Bye."

_I swear I would have died if I heard her say I love you. Thank God she didn't._

She places her phone back on the couch when she hangs up.

I try to go back to our conversation. "Di, I didn't—"

"Don't," she stops me from explaining. "Just forget it. We don't have to talk about it. We'll just end up ruining each other's day."

I nod and look away.

_Oh, I'm sorry if I was going to ruin your perfect mood._

I hear some shuffling, and feel Dianna's head on my shoulder. I sigh before resting my head on hers.

"It's Taylor, isn't it?" I ask with a chuckle, trying to lighten up our situation.

My hearts skips a beat when I hear her whisper, "Sometimes."

"Sometimes?" I repeat.

She half-shrugs. "She's blonde, she's sweet, she sings, and she's really pretty. I can't help it."

_Ouch._

_Is it my fault that I'm not blonde and that pretty?_

"Why did you say sometimes?"

_Shut your fucking mouth, you masochistic idiot._

"I mean I like her, but she's not really the one I have in mind…"

_Oh._

_Hope!_

…_Fucking false hopes._

"You? Who's _your_ lucky girl?"

_Huh?_

"I mean, if you were a guy, whom would you like?"

_Oh._

_You._

_Duh._

"Uhh…" I start. "You know her?" I half-state and half-ask as I giggle.

"Oh," I hear her smile. "Is she famous?"

"Very," I say with a laugh.

"Does she sing? Does she act?"

"Both," I snicker.

"Seriously?" Dianna giggles.

_Oh, God, that laugh._

"Yeah."

"I bet it's Lea," she laughs again.

_Close enough, baby girl._

Our laughter stops when we get interrupted by the sound of thunder and lightning. Dianna sits up and scowls as she utters, "Way to ruin my day."

She really hates the rain. Well, not exactly the rain. She appreciates drizzles, but she's not really a fan of thunders and lightnings.

That's when a song suddenly crosses my mind.

"I can't stop the rain, here it comes again  
Lightnin' strikes across the sky  
Oh, I can't stop the rain, here it comes again  
It takes a witch to curse that goddamn sky…"

I chuckle with Dianna at the end of the verse.

"But that's a love song, Naya," she tells me.

I shrug and smirk. "I just intentionally serenaded you, Di. I thought you were gay. Why are you complaining?"

She bites her lip and chortles before singing words from her favorite song.

"And rain falls angry on the tin roof, as we lie awake in my—," she stops for a while.

"Couch?" I continue for her with a snort.

She nods before resuming, "You're my survival. You're my living proof. My love is alive and not dead…"

_Stop looking at me like that._

"And tell me…" She sings as she rests her head back on my shoulder.

I smile and reach for her hand as I half-whisper and half-sing, "We belong together…"

_Yeah, we do._

I hear her sigh before she asks, "So who is it?"

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," I answer as I intertwine our hands.

"I can't," she murmurs.

"Why not?"

_Because it's me. Hoho._

_I love my optimism._

"Because she can't know."

"What does that have to do with telling me?"

_Because I'm "her". Hoho._

"Let's just say that if you'll know, she might know," she says slowly as she plays with my fingers.

"Are you saying I'm not trustworthy?" I raise an eyebrow.

"No, it's just… I don't know if I should tell anyone. I'm really scared. I'm really good friends with her and…" she grunts before crooning, "I'd rather be alone than lose you…"

"And all I really want to do is be next to you, but I'm too tired to fight," I resume for her.

"And I could tell you know, but, baby, never mind," we finish together, and laugh when we sigh at the same time.

"What would you do if you'd find out that I'm crushing on you?" I blurt out.

"My first reaction? I'd laugh," Dianna responds with a soft laugh.

_I told you to shut up, didn't I? Stupid mouth._

"Then, things will be awkward?" I ask, hoping she's say no.

"No," she confirms. "Of course not. It's not like it's your fault, right? I know how it feels to fall for the wrong person…"

_Great. _

_Now, don't say anything else._

"I like you, then."

_Fuck._

_I swear I didn't mean to. That just slipped out._

I feel my heartbeat stop when Dianna says nothing and just nods.

_Fuck._

_Maybe that'll teach you to shut your fucking, big, uncontrollable mouth next time ar—_

"I like you, too."

_Wha-?_

"I'm sorry?"

_Please say it again._

She sits up, tilts her head, and stares all my senses away. "I like you," she says in a soft, low voice, her eyes not leaving my lips. "I thought it was obvious."

_Fuck._

I open my mouth to say something, anything, but no words come out.

_And you've rendered me speechless, as always._

I gasp and close my eyes when she crashes her lips against mine.

_Wow. I can actually still think._

"Do me a favor," she whispers against my lips as she slightly pulls away.

"Anything," I manage to groan in response.

"Come with me here again," she says before giving my lips a quick peck. "Let me take you here again next year."

I nod. "Anything," I whisper again before leaning in and kissing her the whole night through.


	15. Getting Ready for GLAAD

**Summary: Naya comes over to help Dianna get ready for GLAAD Awards. Short but fluffy. :bd**

* * *

"You look so beautiful."

Naya can't help but let those words slip out of her—in more than one way, talented—tongue as she leans against the doorframe of her girlfriend's bedroom. Dianna's wearing a simple, sleeveless, black dress, yet she looks hot as hell, as always.

Dianna looks at Naya's reflection in the mirror. "Thank you," she blushes, even though that's the millionth time she's been told those same four words.

Naya steps towards her and grabs one of her earrings to help her put it on. "I wish I could go with you."

Dianna turns around to face Naya and plants a kiss on her cheek. "Same, but my managers won't like that much."

"Yeah, because you won't be able to contain your extreme gayness if I go with you." The Latina chuckles as she wraps her arms around the blonde's waist.

"It's not my fault if you look so hot," Dianna sticks out her tongue. "I can't help it. You're so touchable."

"Horndog," Naya teases before sighing. "I wish they'd let us come out."

"That would be a dream come true for everyone, wouldn't it?" Dianna chuckles before sighing. "I'm really nervous."

"Oh, come on, D. You've got this. You're Dianna freakin' Agron."

The girl nods and rests her forehead against the other's. "You'll watch, won't you?"

"Duh. Why did you even ask?"

"I'll mention you," Dianna murmurs as she waits for Naya's reaction.

"What? But your managers—"

"Will be so freakin' mad, I know," Dianna finishes for Naya. "I can handle that. Besides, I won't say anything about us being together."

"Are you sure?" Naya raises an eyebrow. She knows how her girl loves giving out riddles about everything to the public.

"Well," Dianna bites her lip, "I won't say it directly…"

Naya snorts before kissing her girlfriend's lips. "Okay then. We'll talk about it later because you're running late."

Dianna smiles before nodding and giving Naya a quick peck. "Yes, babe. I'll try to come back home as early as possible."

"Nuh-uh," Naya shakes her head. "Take your time, D. Have fun. I'll stay here waiting. I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes, Captain," Dianna answers before pulling away from Naya's embrace.

"But don't have too much fun on your auction, 'kay?" Naya fakes a glare.

"It's not like I enjoy kissing anyone but you, Nay," Dianna replies passionately.

"M-hm," Naya hums and hugs Dianna, her way of telling her she feels the same for the blonde. "You better reach a million bucks. I'd give away all my possessions just to kiss you, you know."

"But you don't have to," Dianna tells Naya as she kisses her. "I'm so beating your price," she adds playfully before poking Naya's nose.

"Oh yeah? Want to bet?"

Dianna nods. "Whoever wins gets to be on top?" She winks as they both laugh.

"You're so going down, Di," Naya winks before slapping the girl's ass. "Now go make me proud."


	16. Gone

"You deserve better."

Bullshit. Why does everyone say that? You bet everyone who has heard the same three words didn't feel any better after hearing the phrase.

She knows you don't want anyone better. She knows she's all you see. She knows she's all you want.

You know she's not perfect. She's a young, vulnerable idiot with a lot of issues just like you.

But she has a voice that makes you shiver. She has a smile that makes you happy no matter how bad your day has been. And she's just… so damn beautiful.

She wasn't perfect, but, to you, she was enough. More than enough. More than enough to break your heart, crush it even.

She wasn't perfect, but you loved her, every single thing about her. You loved her so much that you would have done anything for her. You loved her so much that you didn't even care about yourself.

When she tells you that she can't be with you, you want her to stop talking. But it's not because you're dying; it's because she was crying and you can't stand seeing her in tears.

So you say, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you. Just forget it." But don't forget me, you wanted to say. "Forget I said anything." Even if you meant it when you told her you loved her. Even if you meant every word you said.

She says it's not your fault and apologizes again. "You know I don't want to hurt you. I really love you, San, just..."

"Yeah, you have your family and beliefs that you have to keep. I understand, Q."

You reach out to wipe her tears away and tell her a big lie.

You tell her that it's okay.

But her tears just keep on coming, and all you can think is she's beautiful even with tear-stained cheeks.

"What can I do to make it better?"

_Don't leave me._

_Give me just one chance._

_Tell me you love me._

_Tell me you'll stay._

"Nothing," you mutter. "I'll be okay," you add after seeing her unconvinced look.

But you are far from fine, and you know that. You both know that.

"I know it's not okay."

"It's fine, okay?" And by that, you mean that there's nothing she can do—nothing _you_ can do—that will make everything okay. You just want her to drop it. You just want the conversation to end. You just want to get out of here, so you can at least breathe for a moment.

"Okay. I'm sorry." You want to tell her to stop apologizing because it doesn't make any difference, but you just nod.

You have barely processed that she just wrapped her arms around you when it ended. You would have laughed if your heart wasn't so broken to even smile.

You've always wanted to hug her ever since you fell for her. But you never wanted it to be this way. You didn't want a hug that says I'm sorry, or I know I hurt you but I didn't want to, or just… goodbye.

And you almost hear life screaming, cursing at you. You wanted to just scream and curse at it back, but you just can't.

It's really weird because you should feel better now that everything is finally over, but you don't. You feel worse as you watch her walk away; every step she took was a sharp, deep stab right through your heart. As you watch her walk away, you realize a lot of things. You realize that you should've spent the last few minutes just looking at her, memorizing her face, telling her one last time, I love you, I love you, I love you, because that's the last time you could ever do so.

But you also realize that she was long gone, way before she turned her back on you.

You should've known. Well, you did, right from the start. You knew that even if she'd love you back, there's just no way that you could make this work and make this last. You can't keep her, not in this life.

You wanted to run after her, but you know that even if you do, you can't change anything. Even if you run across the whole fucking world to chase after her, you know she can't fight for you.

And love is not a battle where you can fight alone.

Besides, you're too tired to do anything, the kind of tired that sleep cannot fix. So when you finally arrive home, you collapse on your bed. But you don't sleep; you just let the silent tears flow until your eyes are too strained to work any further.

Hours later, you finally fall into a deep slumber. For a second, you were safe from thoughts of her, from memories of her, from her.

But you can't be happy even then because you know that the minute your eyes open the next morning, she'll be there again. You know that she'll be the first thing you'll see—her blonde hair, her green eyes, her bright smile.

Because you loved her. You still do. It may be wrong but… you just do.


	17. Drunken Nights

**Author's note: It's been a while, so here's two one-shots for you, guys. Just so you know, I _am_ going to update my other fics, but I still haven't found the inspiration to do so...**

**I'll come around, though. Just need some time away from schoolwork and I'll update my fics.**

**TTFN, and happy new year, everyone! :)**

* * *

Just when I thought this would just be another Friday of being drunk with Santana, I find myself living an unforgettable night.

"I'm so stupid," I hear her say as she takes another swig. "I should have known. Of course, she'll pick Artie over me."

"You're not," I answer. She's the one who's stupid for letting you go, I wanted to say. "You just… fell in love."

Santana scoffs before muttering, "What's the damn difference?"

"Well, judging from everything I've seen, falling in love is just… worse."

"You can say that again," she says as she motions for me to hand her another bottle. "You know, I never understood why you're drinking with me every single week."

I gulp and almost panic, thinking of what to say.

_She can't know, can she?_

"Hey, I'm the one who buys your drinks. Stop asking and just enjoy my company."

"Oh, come on, Q," she places her beer down the table and looks at me. "You have a problem. I can sense it. Spill."

_No._

_Just no._

"It's about your secret gay love for Rachel, isn't it?" Santana giggles.

_Cute._

_Close enough._

"What makes everyone think that she's my type?" I roll my eyes. "Seriously."

"What is it then?" You stop yourself from gasping when you feel Santana rest her head on your shoulder.

_Since when did you become a cuddly drunk?_

"I just… There's this thing that I've been feeling for a while, a feeling I shouldn't feel. I have to keep it to myself, and I guess alcohol helps me swallow it back inside and forget about it."

"Aww, Quinnie has love problems," you feel her smile. "So it's true then."

_That I'm helplessly in love with you?_

_Hell, yes._

"That even someone who is as perfect as you can't escape unrequited love."

_I'm... what?_

"Yeah. It's just… They're so perfect together and she's so in love and that makes it even harder for me to watch her love someone else."

Santana suddenly sits straighter and raises an eyebrow. "Her?"

_What?_

_How could you let that slip? Quinn, you're so damn stupid._

"Uhh…"

I hear her laugh before I feel her lips on mine.

_Oh._

And in that moment, I can't think. I can't breathe.

_So, this is how it feels when your dream comes alive._

_God, those dreams did not give these lips justice._

I –unintentionally—whimper when she pulls away.

"I knew it," Santana smiles.

"Knew w-what?" I stutter and try to compose myself.

"That you've always had the hots for me," Santana winks, and I feel my face go hot.

I roll my eyes. "I definitely hope you'll forget about this in the morning," I sigh.

"Well, I hope I don't," she replies, stands, and starts unsteadily walking towards the stairs.

I rush up to help her and hold her around the waist. "Where are you going?"

"Up your room, obviously."

"You're staying over?" She never did before. Her house is too near from mine and is safe enough to drunkenly walk back to.

"Oh, I don't know, genius," Santana says as she wraps her arm around my shoulders. "You just kissed a hot Latina, you know. The least you can do is give her a place to sleep."

_Well._

I keep silent as I guide her to my bedroom and help her change into a shirt and shorts. (And I totally blushed when she smirked and said, "Keep in your pants, Q.")

I thought Santana was already sleeping when I finished cleaning up and slipped into the bed next to her. I try to lie as far away as possible from Santana (not that I don't want to be in contact with_ that_ body, because I really do), but she surprises me when she wraps her arms around my waist, nuzzles into my hair, and talks to me in a low, sleepy voice.

"You know, I always try to figure out why it wasn't you whom I fell for, Q. Should've been you."

I place my arm above hers as she pulls me closer. Oh, I would give up a thousand days for another night like this, I think as I close my eyes and fall asleep with a smile on my face.


	18. Quinntana Week Submissions

Author's note: Hey, guys. It's been a while. My schedule's been really hectic lately, so I had (and still have) little time to write. Still, for you guys, I'm trying my best.

So, here are 30-word "samples" for the upcoming Quinntana week. I posted these early so you can give me your comments and suggestions. From your reviews, I'll decide which of these I'll develop into full-length fics and which to modify (hopefully in time).

Thank you for reading and please review. :)

* * *

**Day 1 (Popular!Quinn & Nerd!Santana)**

"Wait." The blonde's skirt is already on the floor when the other girl pulls away.

"No," the Cheerio breathes out, "keep those on."

Santana peers over her glasses and smirks.

* * *

**Day 2 (Serial Killer)**

"Please don't," she hears the blonde sob and sees her watery hazel eyes; it almost makes her want to cry too.

Santana sighs before dropping her knife and running away.

* * *

**Day 3 (Body Swap where Quinn and Santana are already in a relationship)**

Quinn squeals when Santana grabs her—Quinn's body's—boobs.

"What are you doing?!"

"Oh, please, babe. Ain't something I've never squeezed before. Be careful with mine, though, those are expensive."

* * *

**Day 4 (Historical Time Period – World War II, where Quinn and Santana are kids; Santana comforts Quinn after her father joined the army)**

"Don't worry. He'll come home after beating those lassies."

For the first time since her dad left, Quinn smiles. "Nazis, Tana. Nazis."

Santana huffs. "I can't even pronounce that, Q."

* * *

**Day 5 (Headcanon - based on I Do)**

Quinn knew it was wrong. She doesn't have any idea what to do, and she's not even _that_ drunk.

And _Brittany_.

Then again, it's sex _and_ Santana. Who'd dare oppose?

* * *

**Day 6 (Spies where Santana is assigned to spy on Student!Quinn)**

"Agent B, are you _sure_ this _is _her?"

"Long blonde hair?"

"Mhm."

"Positive."

"But… She looks so..."

"Jesus, no hitting on her, Agent S; you've got a job to do."

* * *

**Day 7 (Free Day - Firsts)**

"I love you."

Santana isn't drunk, and Quinn's hand isn't even down_ there_.

But Quinn just looks so_ damn_ beautiful under the moonlight.

So.

"I love you, Quinn," Santana repeats.


	19. Always

**Summary: "And you're still expecting her to, you know, come around during these times?" "Expecting? No. But hoping? Always." Quinntana AU. Martana friendship and a little bit of Karley. Slightly OOC.**

**Rating: T**

**Word Count: 5k+**

* * *

_**AN: This is NOT (bold, italicized, and underlined for emphasized emphasis XD) a Santana/Marley (Santarley? Martana? Lol idk) story. Just Quinntana + Santana/Marley friendship (with a teeny-tiny bit of Karley. :D).**_

_**R&R. :***_

* * *

**Day 332**

I cringe as I hear a loud screeching which signals the train's halt. I gather my things carefully, unlike the other passengers who already had quickly grabbed their bags and rushed to the exit. I wait for the large wave of people to subside before standing up and inching my way out of the door.

I've always loved listening to the sound of my sneakers crunching against asphalt, but I can never hear it here. There are too many people chattering and loudly strolling for me to hear it.

That's only one of the many things I hate about this place (the first of which is how its name sounds like some fatal, foreign disease). Still, I am _forced_ to come by this station twice a day because I recently transferred schools to the one in the next town.

It's kind of a long story, but I'll tell you anyway.

You see, my mother is, um,_ big_. Not like WWE wrestler big, more like_ sumo_ wrestler big. She's working as a lunch lady in my former school, and when the people in my school found out that she's my mom, all hell broke loose.

I'm exaggerating, of course. Still.

It was difficult for me to concentrate on my studies when my classmates kept throwing paper balls at me with jokes about my mom occupying two time zones written on them. That's why we both figured that it's probably best for me to switch to another school, one where I can learn properly.

One where no one knows about her.

Don't get me wrong; I love my mom, and I'm more than proud to be her daughter. In fact, I know that I can never ask for a better mother. It's just that, at some point in your life, you just have to accept that the world we're living in is not all marshmallows and rainbows.

The world is cruel. Get over it.

So there you have it, the reason why I have to endure a sharp pain in my butt—_literally_—every single day.

I run a hand down my cap and look around, searching for a familiar face.

There she is again. Or should I say, there she is _still_.

And by she, I meant the Latina who I always see, the only pretty sight in this damn wreck of a train station.

She's always there, just sitting in a bench and holding a thick, black notebook. Sometimes, she puts her reading glasses on and writes down on the notebook, but every few seconds, she'd stop and look around.

Like she's waiting for someone, and she'd miss seeing the person if she gazes down her notes a second longer.

I've always wanted to talk to her ever since the first day I saw her. Then, I thought she just happens to stop by the station on times that coincide with my transportation schedule.

But now, I realize that it's more likely that she's just _always_ there, like, she just never leaves.

(To be honest, if she weren't wearing different, seemingly expensive, _not to mention quite fashionable_, clothes every time I see her, I would've thought she's a hobo.)

I've never had the courage to talk to her, though. It's not that she's_ that_ scary-looking. (In fact, she looks very breath-taking, like Victoria's Secret model kind of breath-taking, though she looks kind of aggressive.) And she also always looks so alone, and needing someone beside her.

But I just think I'm that someone.

So I just pass her by, but I do take a glimpse of her as I walk past her.

_Someday, lady. Someday._

* * *

**Day 333**

_Why does she look so familiar? _

You guessed right; I saw her again.

I really think I saw her before, I mean not in the train station, somewhere else.

_Screw it._

I take a deep breath before finally deciding to approach the girl.

"Hey," I greet before sitting next to her usual seat.

She looks up from her notebook. "Hey."

_Thank God I look harmless._

"I, uh, I'm Marley." I say with a high tone at the end, which makes my statement sound more like a question.

"Are you sure?" She jokes, and I nod in embarrassment. "I'm Santana."

"I—I just… I always see you here."

She smiles. "That's because I spend most of my day here."

"May I ask why?"

Santana huffs and leans back against the bench. "It's… kind of a long story."

"I've got time," I shrug. "I don't really have any homework today so."

I see her bite her bottom lip as, I presume, she decides if she'd tell me her story or not. Finally, she sighs and says, "Alright."

I feel excitement rush through my body as she says that single word, but she adds, "But not now, though. I just… Can you come back tomorrow?"

I smile. "No problem."

"Okay, then," she returns my smile.

"See you?"

She smirks. "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

**Day 334**

I skip—yes, _skip_—my way out of the train with a grin of excitement on my face. Last morning, we just waved at each other because I'm _always_ running late.

But tonight…

_I'll know her story. Finally._

Instead of a hello, however, she greets me by holding out a 50-dollar bill.

"Go to Coffee-gasm. Buy yourself anything." She says all of that without looking up from her book. "Get yourself a slice of cake or something, too. This is a_ long_ story. You'll get hungry."

I merely shrug and _skip_ my way to the café that's only a few feet away from the station. It's a small one though it looks decent, but I've never entered it before because 1) I'm not really a big fan of coffee, 2) once, I was asked if I've had too much caffeine for breakfast because, I quote, "your eyes are like… so awake", and 3) the café's name is just so corny.

I savor the sweet—no, bitter—smell of the coffee shop as I wait for my latte and cheesecake.

"Anything else, Ma'am?" The guy behind the counter smiles widely at me.

"No, thank you," I politely reply. "I have a girlfriend," I add, after I see him scribbling his number on a piece of tissue.

It was a lie. and he's also pretty handsome; but he stopped writing, anyway.

"Oh," he mumbles as he crumples the paper. "That's cool."

I smile sympathetically at him before waving goodbye and exiting the shop.

"Done," I tell Santana, and sit down next to her. I take a sip of the coffee and almost moaned.

So that's why, I think as I remember the café's name.

"Keep it," Santana says when I try to hand her the change. "Did Ryder hit on you?"

"Who?" I say blankly, until I realize she's talking about the guy from earlier. "Oh, yeah. I think."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing," I lied again. "Why?"

Santana chuckles. "Poor guy. He's nice, but I can pick up more girls in a minute that he can in his whole lifetime."

I raise an eyebrow questioningly and she finally looks up from her book. "Yeah, I'm gay. You could go if it bothers you."

"Nah, it's fine," I shrug. "Besides, I wants to hear your story, and I wants to hear it now."

At first, Santana grimaces, and I do too at how ridiculous it sounded from my mouth, but after a second, we both laugh.

She sighs. "Okay, okay, it all starts 'bout a little less than 13 years ago, when I was in high school…"

"Wait," I interrupt. "How old are you now? I mean, if I may ask."

"Just turned twenty-eight," she frowns. "Argh, I hate saying that."

"Shit," I blush as I unintentionally curse. "You look nothing older than twenty-three."

"I get that a lot," she winks. "Kidding. I'm assuming you're in high school?"

I nod. "Junior year."

Santana huffs. "That was a rough year for me. Got outed to the whole damn town when I wasn't ready yet."

"Lived in a homophobic part of the state?"

"Yep. Fucking Lima."

I cringe. "That sounds hard."

"It was," she agrees. "But that's _another_ long story."

"Anyway," she continues, "to cut this story short, here's all you need to know."

She clears her throat and puts down her book. "There's this girl. Her name's Quinn. Quinn Fabray. Sounds snobby right? But yeah, I guess she kind of was. So, simply put, I fell in love with her.

"The problem is I shouldn't have. It wasn't that she's a girl. It's just she's completely straight. At least, then, I thought so. And she was my best friend. Well, at some point, at least. There were times when we slapped the shit out of each other's faces, stole each other's boyfriends, and slammed each other against lockers, but that's not because we hate each other.

"Maybe it's just that we're… too much alike. We were both bitches back in high school, being head cheerleaders and all, and I guess, we both wanted to 'out-bitch' each other.

"We also wanted to have the same things then—the boys, the popularity, and the power, because in high school, those are simply _everything_.

"But just graduation came around, we suddenly became closer. Maybe that's because beneath our rough exteriors lie sentimental bitches, or maybe it's just that we've been through a lot _together._

"Then, our Glee club adviser, his name is Mr. Schue—like, Schuester and not, you know, _shoe_— had this wedding. I thought that joining that club was the worst decision I've ever made in high school, but it turns out that it's quite the contrary. It really changed my life, so I can't really skip his wedding.

"Except there wasn't any wedding at all. Though he did marry the same girl a few months later, at first, he was left at the altar. It was heartbreaking for all of us, maybe except for the bride's parents, but it was Valentine's Day then. It just made everything… suck even more.

"Anyway, since he's a good guy and all, he still wanted the reception to take place even if there's nothing to celebrate about really.

"And… That night, well, I was lonely, and Quinn was lonely, and we both didn't know how the hell that's even happening because, clearly, we're the hottest girls present, so…"

She trails out, and I smirk.

"Was it good?"

"Oh my God," she chuckles. "It_ was_ amazing."

"Then what happened?"

"It was awkward at first. I mean, I didn't even know that she was _into that_, and I was even convinced that it's only a one-night thing. But… I was wrong.

"We were just… happy. Even if it was never official, it was close. I was in love, and I didn't care about some stupid labels.

"She never really… declared that she's not _that _straight as everyone else knows, but she'd hold my hand and rest her head on my shoulder _in public_, and, to me, that was enough. More than enough, even.

"And then I messed up."

She stops there and takes a deep breath. She looks at me for the first time in an hour, then she grabs the styrofoam cup in my hands. She chugs down its barely-there contents before crushing it in her fists.

"Sorry," she murmurs. "I'll buy you another one."

"It's okay," I reply quickly. "It's almost empty, anyway."

I watch her absent-mindedly nod, with her eyes far away. She breaks out of her trance when I say, "You should rest. I'll come back tomorrow."

She hums in response, and I stand up and put my backpack on. However, I didn't expect her to stand up as well.

"What?"

"Sorry, I just thought that you live here. Practically."

"Usually, I stay here 'til after midnight, but I guess taking a break tonight won't hurt."

I wait for her to gather her things and we step out of the station together.

"Where do you live anyway?" I ask as we're walking.

"House nearest to the station," she answers simply. "I just moved there a couple of months ago."

"Wait, are you talking about _the_ mansion?" I feel my eyes widen. "Like, this one?" I look up at the fanciest house I've ever seen which is just a few steps away from the coffee shop.

"Yeah," she breathes as we both stop in front of the gate. "See you?"

I just nod dumbly, still not over the fact that, gosh, all this time, this house was hers.

* * *

**Day 335**

This time, I already have a cup of coffee waiting for me sitting next to Santana.

"I figured you'd rather not see Ryder today," she explains.

I smile and thank her, and finally ask the question I've been wanting to ask her all night.

"What do you do?" I say in a rush.

"What?"

"Like, what do you do for a living?" I ask. "I mean, you, like, spend your _whole _day just writing in the train station. How'd you get that mansion? Did you like, inherit it? Or are you secretly a mob boss or something?"

Santana chuckles. "No, I'm _not_ a mob boss. You see, this is why I like being a writer. You can do your job _anywhere_. Even in a damn train station."

"Oh," I say. "What kind of writer are you?"

"I, erm, write novels."

I'm thinking of a response when I realize…

"Holy shit! You're _Santana Lopez_!"

Santana shushes me jokingly. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Holy… I'm a big fan! I have every single one of your books. No kidding."

"Why, thank you," she laughs. "Normally, I'd ask which one's your favorite, but the truth is I'm really tired of discussing about my works."

"Your _works_? They're masterpieces!"

Santana bashfully runs her fingers through her hair. "Okay, enough about me. I want to hear _your_ story."

* * *

**Day 338**

I didn't see Santana this weekend, and I miss talking to her already. Four days in, and it's already a big part of my daily—or weekday-ly—routine.

"Missed me?" Santana smirks.

"You wish!"

So I spend my weekdays talking _personally_ with a world-class novelist.

Nothing special about that at all.

* * *

**Day 341**

"You never told me the _actual _reason why you're always here."

"The last time I talked to her, I told her she's welcome to come back in my life anytime she feels like it. I told her that I'd be waiting here when she comes back."

"And… How long have you been waiting?"

"Just a few months."

I raise an eyebrow.

"…Almost a year," she confesses.

My jaw drops.

* * *

**Day 355**

"How could you even stand this weather?" I ask Santana as I tighten my grip on my thick jacket. I'm wearing five layers of clothing plus gloves, a scarf, and a hat (_"You finally took that damn cap off!"_) while she's wearing only three, I think.

_At most._

And she's been here all day long.

"Hot chocolate," she replies. "And thinking of Quinn makes me feel warm all over."

I roll my eyes and chuckle, and she adds, "But mostly, _hot chocolate_."

* * *

**Day 367**

"I don't normally make friends, you know."

"What am I, then, some _entertainer_?" I chortle.

"You looked friendly enough," she reasons out. "Besides, I missed having someone who's just… there."

"I know what you mean."

"You always get what I mean, too. And who else would spend their days listening to my sad stories and rants?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm staying here for the cheesecake."

* * *

**Day 385**

I don't have any classes, so here I am, playing Scrabble with the same old girl in the same place. I want to spend time with her somewhere else, but her leaving the station is, of course, out of question.

"Maybe someday, I'll take you somewhere else," I say as I wait for her to finish her turn. "If _Quinn _comes back."

"When Quinn comes back," Santana corrects me. "Where would you take me, anyway?"

"I don't know. Maybe in a park or somewhere out of town. Somewhere _happy_."

"Yeah, you need that, too," she snickers. "I'd take you to the mall and buy you a new fucking cap."

When I reach out to shove her, I accidentally send the board game falling out of the bench.

"Crap."

* * *

**Day 398**

Some weeknights, I don't get to talk with Santana. (Who even invented homework?) I'd just walk to her and mumble "Algebra" or "Biology" or "school sucks", and she'd hand me my coffee and reply, "Wait 'til you get to college."

Some weekends, and even during vacation breaks, I still stop by the station to 1) talk to San and 2) ride the train to Kitty's city. (Oh, that rhymed.)

Some days, we'd talk about serious stuff (we must have the most "angst-ful" pasts and lives), but most of the time, we talk about random things like…

"San, if someone would serenade you, what song would you like them to sing?"

Santana has stopped laughing at the randomness of our topics; recently, most of the questions I've asked just to keep the conversation going just comes out of nowhere.

"That's a hard one, I _love_ music." Santana stays silent as she thinks hard. "I think I'd like any romantic, _happy_ song, you know, like, 1234 or We Could Happen. Just anything but Taylor Swift's."

"Why not?!" I pout. "She's awesome!"

"I know, but her songs are just… sad." She sighs. "Sometimes, listening about heartbreaks and losing someone without knowing if she'd ever come back can be tiring."

"I guess you're right," I just agree.

"How about you?"

"I think the sweetest song I've ever heard is Against All Odds," I answer. "And Distance, that's my favorite song."

"God, no wonder why you're so depressed."

"I'm not depressed," I argue. "I'm happy! I'm a very happy person!"

Santana scoffs. "Just because you're always smiling doesn't mean you're happy."

"How would I know then? How would I know if I'm happy?"

"When you're happy…" Santana stops. "When you're happy, you'll never feel empty anymore."

* * *

**Day 422**

"What do you think she's up to?" I ask as I munch on a cheesecake.

"Who?"

"Quinn," I answer. "Who else?"

Santana shrugs. "She's probably preparing for graduation. And the upcoming bar."

"She's studying?"

"Yep, in Yale," Santana says with pride.

"Why don't you just, you know, go to her instead of waiting here?"

"I told her I'd give her space. I told her I'd be here when she needs me, so there."

"If you say so," I shrug. "So she's busy."

"Probably."

"And you're still expecting her to, you know, come around during these times?" I ask, expecting her to say yes while finding it illogical. (I mean, she _is_ here, right?) However, her answer is more heartbreaking than that.

"Expecting? No." She blinks. "But hoping? Always."

* * *

**Day 446**

"I never told you why we broke up," Santana says.

"You never showed me what she looked like, either," I add.

"I didn't?" She narrows her eyes. "Well, she's…"

"No, I don't want to hear you rave about how beautiful she is in your eyes or some cheesy stuff like that," I stop her. "Don't you have a picture of her?"

Santana slides her phone out of her pocket, presses and slides through its screen, and hands it over to me. "She's the one in the middle."

It was a photo of the two of them in their high school cheerleading skirts with another girl that I don't recognize, though they all seem close. "Who's this one?" I say, pointing at the taller blonde.

"That's Brittany, my bestfriend-slash-girlfriend before Q," she answers. "And the reason why we broke up. Well, not really, it's probably my own fault."

"Quinn's beautiful. What stupid thing have you done?" I say accusingly. "Aside from sitting here everyday waiting for her, I mean."

"I just thought first loves were forever," she huffs. "Thought I still loved Britts, but it turns out it's probably just… an aftershock, I guess."

"Why'd you two broke up?"

"Long distance," she answers simply. "I didn't want to tie her down, and so did she for me."

"And you're still friends?"

"Yeah, but not as close as before. People say exes can still keep their friendships, but they never tell you that it can never go unchanged."

"And Quinn was your bestfriend too, wasn't she?" Santana nods. "God, you never learn, do you?"

* * *

**Day 489**

"Don't you think you're missing out on a lot of opportunities?"

"Like what?"

"You know, instead of sitting here, you could use your time on, I don't know, travelling around the world or spending time in your air-conditioned mansion instead of this stinky place?" I try, and she laughs the same old throaty laugh she always does. "I mean, don't you think you're wasting your life?"

Santana stays silent, thinking of a good reply, then goes for, "But she_ is_ my life."

To be honest, I was really touched, but I just roll my eyes and say, "No wonder you're a writer."

"I was serious though," she continues. "I won't enjoy anything anyway while knowing that, while I'm away, she could be travelling to this station, hoping that I'd be there to welcome her back. So, yes, I'd rather stay here and hold on to the near-zero possibility that one day, she'd step out of that train and I'd be the first one she sees, than go somewhere else and have no chances at all."

I smile sadly. "That's deep."

Santana shrugs. "Do you think she'll ever come back?"

"It's been about a year and 3 months, San. She could've at least wrote to you or invited you to her graduation or anything." I say, and I watch her shoulders drop. "But I wish she would."

"She will," Santana murmurs. "I know she will."

"And if she doesn't?"

"Well, I might just marry you then," Santana jokes.

"But you're _so old_!" I leer.

"But hot, nonetheless," she counters. "And smart. And rich. And famous."

"And so modest, too," I reply. "What a catch."

"I couldn't agree with you more."

* * *

**Day 534**

I clear my throat. "Um, since I know almost all about your love story, I think it's time to tell you mine."

"Great! Finally! Go on, start!"

"So, err," I swallow. "There's this girl."

"Oooh," Santana smirks; I've never told her I'm into girls before. "Okay, tell me about her."

"Well, I can rave about her all day, but I'm just going to say that she's beautiful, kind of feisty but really a 'closet softie', and, whenever I talk to her, I just… never felt that happier before."

I expect Santana to tease me about being such a sap, but instead I just hear her slowly say, "Um, okay…"

It's only when I saw the half-nervous and half-horrified look on her face that I understood why she wasn't responding well. "Oh my Go—Santana, I wasn't talking about you!"

I laugh as Santana breathes out a sigh of relief. "Good. Stop laughing; I was just worrying about how to _gently _dump your sorry ass!"

As my laughing subsides, Santana tells me, "So, do you have a picture of her or something?"

"Uh, yeah…" I open my bag to retrieve my phone.

Santana waits as I search for the photo I'm looking for. "Here," I say as I hand her my phone.

"You stalker, this is a stolen shot," she says first, then she bites her lip and squints as she studies the image better. "Is it just me or does this girl look a bit like Quinn?"

I hum. "In a way."

"Quinn's prettier though," Santana mutters as she hands my phone back, and I just shrug.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," I recite.

"Okay, okay, no need to go all Dr. Seuss on me," Santana chuckles.

"Oh, and she's also a big fan of yours," I say, which makes a cocky smile appear on her face.

"What are you waiting for then? Go on and put a ring on it!" She jokes, and she adds, "Wait, does she even know?"

I shake my head slowly, and she frowns.

"That sucks."

"It does."

* * *

**Day 556**

I'm still half-asleep when my phone vibrates from the headboard.

"San?"

"She passed!"

"Wha-?"

"Quinn passed!" I can almost hear her smile.

"That's great!" I tell her. "Right?"

"Of course it is!" Santana confirms, but with less enthusiasm. "I… I'm happy for her."

I sigh. "I know you are."

* * *

**Day 569**

I look around and realize that something's really, _really_ wrong.

_Santana's gone._

I try searching for her all over the station, but no luck. After that, I try calling her phone, but it just goes straight to her mailbox.

I sit down in her usual spot, exasperated, and hope that she's okay.

"If I don't hear from her 'til tomorrow, she's so dead."

Damn, wrong choice of words.

* * *

**Day 570**

I'm just a minute away from calling the cops when Santana_ finally_ texts me.

It's not just any message though. All it contains is an attachment, and I smile when I see it.

A picture of Santana sitting in a what I'm guessing is a restaurant, with Quinn right beside her.

I would've cried for her instead of laughing, but when I noticed that Quinn's holding up today's paper like some sort of kidnapping victim got me.

I'm still staring at the photo when she sends me another text.

"_I told you so."_

* * *

**Day 571**

"So how did it happen?" I ask Santana on a late phone call. I told her she could call me when Quinn's asleep; I know Santana wants to spend every single second with her especially now. "Did it feel like time stopped when you saw her? Did she drop her bags and dramatically run to your open arms? Did you cry and tell each other how sorry you both are and how you've missed each other? Did you kiss her in fro—"

"No, what is this, a sappy romcom?" Santana interrupts. "But of course, for me, it was special. It's _Quinn_."

"Do you really expect me to believe that there was nothing else special about your reunion? Man, you waited for _forever_! Come on, tell me more."

"What, I'm telling the truth!" Santana laughs. "She just said she didn't want to come back without passing the bar first. She said, and I quote, 'I can't dance anything like B can, but I can recite a hundred articles from the Constitution. I hope that's good enough for you.'"

* * *

**Day 572**

I enter Coffee-gasm, and it's a good thing that's the place is small. That way, I didn't have to search hard to find Santana.

She smiles when she sees me and gestures for me to sit down in front of her and Quinn.

"You must be Marley," Quinn says once I'm seated. She reaches out her hand for me to shake.

_Her voice. Damn._

_No wonder Santana's fallen head over heels for this girl._

"And I'm guessing you're the Quinn Fabray," I say as I shake her hand. "Gosh, you're gorgeous," I breathe out, and my face heats up as those words slip out of my tongue.

"So are you," she smiles. "I love your eyes," we say together and laugh.

Santana clears her throat and we both turn to her. "Please tell me you're not falling for each other or something."

"She's stunning," Quinn shrugs. "You sure you never hit on her?"

Santana shakes her head. "No, Ma'am."

"Not once?"

She shakes her head again. "Not once."

"Well, I would have," she winks at me and I blush while Santana frowns. "That's if I weren't so in love with you already," Quinn says as she pinches Santana's cheek.

Santana pouts. "Great, because her _girlfriend _looks a lot like you."

"She's not my girlfriend!" I argue.

"Yet," she counters and sticks out her tongue.

"You're still so childish," Quinn sighs. "And weird," she adds and turns to me. "Imagine my surprise when she asked me to take a picture with her holding a newspaper."

"What? It's cute, though, wasn't it, Marley?" Santana asks me, and I nod. "See?"

"_You're _cute," Quinn sneers. I grin at their cuteness before looking at my watch.

_Shit._

"Going somewhere?" Quinn asks me.

"I'm… supposed to be meeting Kitty."

"Running late again?" Santana comments. "We won't keep you long then."

"Psh, she just wants me all to herself," Quinn leans towards me and whispers, though it's still loud enough for Santana to hear.

"She's right, though, I really should get going." I direct my gaze away from my watch and to Quinn and say, "It was nice meeting you."

"Same. Take care, okay?"

"Will do." I grin. "Goodbye, then."

"Call me when you're free!" Quinn calls out when I'm already in front of the door and humorously blows me a kiss, and I blush for the nth time for the last few minutes.

"She's kidding!" Santana says, and Quinn rolls her eyes as she takes Santana's hand.

I turn around after waving at both of them, and chuckle when I hear Santana silently (and worriedly) mumble, "You weren't serious, were you?"

* * *

**Day 734**

"Hey, Marley!" I'm walking to the train when I hear a familiar voice calling my name. I turn around and wave back at Santana as I start to walk towards her.

"Didn't expect to see you here," I say when we're close enough to talk. "You okay?"

"More than okay," she enthusiastically answers. "I just wanted to give you something."

I raise an eyebrow when she hands me something wrapped in rough brown paper. "What's this?"

"Remember when I told you I was working on a book? You know, the second time you spoke to me?" I nod. "Well, I was lying. I did bring that notebook with me so I could write, but, at that time, I didn't have anything good to write about. I mean, yeah, I could've written about a girl staying for 16 hours a day in a train station, waiting for her lost love, but I didn't know how I could do that in a special way."

"I'm guessing you already did?" I tried, gesturing at the wrapped package.

"You guessed right!" She grinned. "But I couldn't have done it without you, so I wanted you to have a copy before everyone else does."

A giggle escapes my lips before I wrap my arms around Santana's shoulders. "Thank you."

"No," she says as she hugs me back, "thank _you_."

I pull away after a few moments. "This better have your autograph in it."

Santana smirks. "Yep, on the first page."

"With a message?"

"Uh, no."

"Not even a 'Hi, Marley' or something?" I frown.

Santana chuckles. "Eh, something like that, I guess."

"Awesome." I pumped my fist, which makes her laugh. "I have to go now, though."

"Oh, that's cool. I have a date in an hour anyway." Santana smiles shyly.

"Again?"

"Yep, just making up for lost time."

"Okay then," We say goodbye, and I take a few steps before walking back. "Oh, Santana, can I ask for a favor?"

"Name it."

"Uh, can I have another copy? With, um, a dedication for Kitty?"

I blush as Santana grins smugly. "Sure. Text me later when you're coming home."

"Thanks," I breathe and wave goodbye before jogging back towards the train.

Once I'm settled on my seat, I open the package carefully, as if the wrapper's part of the book I've been given, gently removing the tapes off of the brown paper first before pulling the novel out.

"Oh, God," I whisper as I see the phrase engraved on the cover. "_Always,_" it says in big, curvy letters. On the background is a dull sketch of the backs of two girls sitting on a bench.

_Wait._

And that's me, right on the cover.

_Jesus_.

My smile widens after I flipped to the dedication page.

"_For Quinn, _

_for whom I've waited for 568 days,_

_and for Marley, _

_who made the last 247 of those bearable for me."_

* * *

_**AN: One-shot? I guess. :P**_


End file.
